Wilted Flowers
by queencestqueen
Summary: What is this place? The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?
1. Foxworth Hall

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings:**Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
_What is this place?_The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series,  
\- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This first chapter was edited by jameslawerences.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Oliver straightened his jacket as he climbed out of the taxi and closed the bright yellow door behind him. He fixed the center button on the suit as he made his way up the walkway toward the mansion. Silence engulfed him as the taxi pulled away, heading back for civilization. _What is this place?_ The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." It loomed large over the landscape of the countryside, and not in a good way. Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like the Queen Mansion. Their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread.

What the hell had happened during those five years? He had some of the pieces to the puzzle, but not all of them, and what he did know made no sense. How had all their family money been lost? Surely there had to have been some safeguards? Surely, his father would have been able to find a way to make sure they were both taken care of. It didn't make sense, but it happened nonetheless. According to Tommy, seven months after the Gambit sank, his mother had sold off Queen Consolidated and six months after that the two remaining Queens had been forced to abandon Starling City entirely. Those were all the details Tommy knew about, but it had given him a place to start.

It had taken him awhile to get even an inkling of where to find his mother. There had been no mention of Thea. Surely, at seventeen, she would be making a name for herself; a better name then he'd made for himself at that age. Something was seriously wrong here and he couldn't let it go. He wanted to accomplish two tasks at once: righting the wrongs of his father while simultaneously finding the rest of his family, but the task proved too arduous. He tried to enact vengeance on the names on his father's list to honor his memory, but his focus on that task just wasn't possible while the looming question of his mother and sister's fate was still out there. No, he decided, the mission his father had given him would have to wait. Finding and reconnecting with his family was more important. He trusted that his father would agree with this decision.

Three months after returning home from the island, his research first revealed the mention of the foreboding mansion. As he researched more and more into Foxworth Hall, Oliver became more and more certain that his mother and sister would indeed be there. This was his mother's childhood home, and the most likely place they would come to after having to abandon Starling. After all, where else would someone run when they were in trouble? Home.

That hypothesis had seemed much more plausible, however, before he viewed the house in person. How could this dark place possibly be their mother's childhood home? How could it be anyone's childhood home? The grand estate wasn't inviting in any way. As a matter of fact, the house screamed 'stay the fuck away.' God, he hoped his mother and sister had not stayed here long. The idea of his bright, chipper baby sister being forced to live in this place made him unhappy.

He grasped the antiqued door knocker in his hand and brought the heavy thing down on the wood twice. He just hoped that these people, his grandparents, could tell him where to find his family. Oliver wasn't even aware of the fact that his mother's parents were still alive until he started his research, growing up his mother seemed to avoid any mention of them whatsoever. It was all very strange. He needed answers and this was the place he was hopefully going to finally get them after almost nine months.

When no one came to answer the door, he raised the bronze handle and brought it down again. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened to reveal a very old man in a butler's uniform. The man did not look welcoming as he stared at Oliver with blank, uncaring eyes. "May I help you?," he coughed.

"Yes," Oliver said, a little thrown by the man's disposition, "I'm looking for Moira-"

"Is Ms. Foxworth expecting you?" the butler asked, cutting Oliver's sentence short. _Ms. Foxworth? Why would mom go back to her maiden name?_

"No," he said, pulling himself to his full height just in case he had to force his way past the man, "I imagine that she isn't."

"Who may I say is calling?" the elderly man asked, his eyes quickly scanning Oliver.

"Oliver Queen."

There was a fraction of a second when the man's eyes widened at the utterance of this surname, but the butler was quick to recover. He nodded and stepped back to allow Oliver entrance into the grand estate. He stepped into the large foyer, eyes sweeping immediately around the room looking for any possible threats automatically. There was a large spiral staircase to the left of him that the butler passed completely in favor of the far left door. "Please, remain here."

Inside, as it turned out, was even more intimidating then the outside. The walls were made of polished mahogany and the floors appeared to be marble. There were doors off the foyer then he'd ever seen in one room. The impression it gave off made him feel like he was waiting his turn to be interrogated and like he was being judged even though he was alone. It was...well, the only word he could think of was creepy.

"-sure he said his name was Oliver Queen?" The sound his mother's voice drifted into room and Oliver turned to face the door the other man exited through. He'd been waiting five years and nine months for this moment. Finally, he would be reunited with his family. It had been a long time coming.

"Yes, ma'am." The door he was facing opened then and out walked his mother, closely followed by the elderly butler

"Oliver?" Her voice was a whisper of shock as she caught sight of her son. She froze to that spot and he looked at her for a long while. She looked older then he remembered, but that was to be expected after so long. Her hair was still blonde for the most part, though he suspected that there might be a few silver strands among the tresses, and there were a few more lines around her eyes, but she still had that classic beauty to her. Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of her; Mom meant home and home was everything good.

Moira took a couple steps toward him eagerly and Oliver prepared to be embraced, but then she stopped completely. He watched confused as she turned instead to face the grumpy old man watching them with beady eyes. "My mother?" She asked, voice going childlike at the question. _What an odd question,_Oliver thought as his keen eyes absorbed everything about the unusual interaction.

"Gone to church, madam."

"How long has she been gone?"

"Half an hour ago, miss."

At that, the mother he remembered returned. She quickly dismissed the butler before she made her way to and embraced him. It was awkward, at first; it had been so long since he was hugged that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with such interactions anymore, but it didn't seem to deter her in any way. "Oh, my sweet boy." She whispered, clinging to him, tears trailing down her cheeks and into the fabric of his shirt. "I never thought…" She trailed off.

After a few seconds of hugging while he awkwardly patted her on the back, Moira finally released him. She composed herself quickly, though she continued to stare at him. He didn't blame her for it; he couldn't look away from her either, his mind again taking in all the changes the past five years had brought her. "Come on, let's go to the sitting room and talk," she suggested, taking his elbow and leading him to the door on his left.

For the next hour, mother and son talked...or rather, she talked and asked him questions about his "time away" and he answered in vague generalities or skillfully dodged the inquires. As time passed, more and more of the woman he remembered appeared and the stranger who had stood so stiffly next to that butler faded away. It was...nice.

Until _she_ barged into the room, that is. She was a massive woman, very broad and intimidating as she said, "Moira."

Oliver watched as his mother was replaced with that formal woman in under a second. She sat up rim-rod straight as she shifted her weight slightly in her seat to look at the hulking woman framed in entrance. "Mother," she greeted in a voice that her son recognized as her "putting up with idiots" voice, "how was the service today?"

"You would know if you had attended," the woman replied with ice in her tone that even had Oliver straightening in his seat.

"I had every intention-"

"You know what they say about intentions, my dear." The term of endearment rang false and the room fell silent before the older woman turned her watery blue gaze to him. "And who exactly is your guest?"

Oliver opened his mouth to introduce himself, but his mother cut in before he could utter a sound, "Jonas Quentin," she said breathlessly, "an old friend from Starling City." She turned to face him then, eyes wide and begging him not to disagree, "Jonas, I'd like to introduce you to my mother, Olivia Foxworth."

He stood up and extended his hand politely, "Mrs. Foxworth." She took his proffered hand with a look of calculating suspicion. She shook his hand tightly and he took the opportunity to truly examine his grandmother.

She was a tall, burly woman with hard blue-gray eyes. Her lips were pulled into a tight disapproving frown that forced the pins in her silver hair to hold tighter to her head to keep her hair in place. Even the lines on her face spoke of the anger that this woman lived with. Olivia Foxworth was clearly not a happy person.

How was it that this steely-eyed woman was his maternal grandmother? She seemed to greatly dislike people, given the way that she looked at both him and his mother. How could a mother look at her own child in such a way? Neither of his parents had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many mistakes he made in his youth.

"What brings you to Foxworth Hall, Mr. Quentin?" Once more he opened his mouth to try to answer, she interrupted him before he could respond to her query. "Have you come to congratulate my daughter on her successful first year of marriage?"

Marriage? He turned to face his mother again. She gave him nothing so he turned back to his grandmother, "I was unaware of this news. I've been away for quite some time." He slowly turned away to face his mother once more. "Congratulations on your new marriage, Mrs….?" He let the question trail off to prompt a response from her.

"It's just Ms., Jonas, I've decided to keep my maiden name." She answered in the soft spoken tone she'd acquired since her mother entered the room, "Walter understands my line of thinking."

"Walter? As in Walter Steele?"

"It's complicated, sweetheart." Moira said, taking a single step in his direction.

"Sweetheart?" Olivia echoed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Her tone was steady and yet angry. It set Oliver on edge as he stood firmly between the two older women.

"It's just an expression, Mother," Moira said, moving to stand next to her son, "I've known Jonas since he was a boy. He's like a son to me."

_Like a son to me_, the words bounced around his head and all the confusion of the day wore on him suddenly. Why was she even here? Why was she lying about his name and his relation to her? What worried him most, however, was the lack of Thea. Where was she? Surely, she should have been home by now; it was growing dark outside and this behemoth of a mansion was on a long winding road. She should be home now, shouldn't she? She was eighteen by now, but still… in addition, their mother had not mentioned her once in all of her conversational babble from earlier. Where was his little sister?

The elder woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the two of them, standing together. He was just waiting for the silence to break. He could feel the shatter coming, but there was nothing to be done about it. "Well," said his grandmother suddenly, making his mother jump a little, "Dinner shall be in a few minutes. I'll have a place set for you, Mr. Quentin." With that declared, she spun on her heel and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her grey taffeta dress flared out behind her a bit, disappearing a second after she left the doorway. He stood there, staring at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning to face his mother once more. It was time for some answers.

"I know you're confused," Moira said and Oliver made an aborted noise of disbelief that had the woman's lips quirking slightly. "Heavens how I missed you, my boy," she whispered, falling back into the seat she'd previously occupied. Oliver retook his seat too, not taking the bait his mother had tried for. His mother took a deep sigh and looked down. "This isn't going to pleasant for you to hear."

"I still need to hear it."

She nodded, pushing her hair back away from her face, "Your father and I, we always expected that we'd live long, happy lives together, grow old, side by side. Why wouldn't we think that? We were happy and in love and people like that, they always lose touch with the real world a bit." A small smile came to her lips then, "Your father and I weren't perfect, no couple is, and we had our problems, but we did love each other."

"I know that already," Oliver interjected, and Moira's attention focused back in on him with a frown before she nodded once more.

"Yes, I suppose that you do," she admitted softly, "I just had to say it. It's been so long since… anyway, when Queen Consolidated began to flourish, your father and I grew opulent. We kept buying and buying just because we could. Robert wanted me to live in the world of the upper-class that I'd grown up knowing. Then there was you and Thea and we wanted the best for both of you so we continued to live in splendor because, as I said, why wouldn't we?" She folded her hands in her lap, "Neither of us ever thought that it could all fall apart."

Oliver reached over and laid his hand upon hers as a tear fell down her cheek. He'd always hated seeing his mother sad and in pain, and now it was all written on her face. He couldn't begin to imagine what these last almost six years of not knowing had been like for her. He hadn't been lying when he said he already knew that his parents had loved each other because he'd seen it growing up. Sure, the final years of their marriage it had been strained, but even then he knew there'd been love there. He couldn't even contemplate how hard it must have been for his mother to lose his father or how difficult she must have found it to give up hope for his return. He knew there was a reason that she hadn't asked why his father wasn't with him when he arrived. Perhaps she figured getting both of them back was too much of a miracle to hope for. _If she only knew how little of me has actually returned from that island._

"After you and your father went missing, Oliver, I kind of lost my way. I'm ashamed to admit it. Thankfully, Thea was stronger than I was and she basically raised herself for that first year." Oliver smiled. Of course she did. His Speedy was resourceful. "By the time Walter showed up and pulled me out of my funk, it was already too late. The house of cards Robert and I had built had already started to crumble." She paused to sigh and look down again. "The company was crumbling and all these bills were suddenly coming due, bills that I had thought were already taken care of. It was one thing after another really and I had no options but to come here, to move back in with my parents."

It was the singularity of that final statement that caught Oliver's attention. _She_ had to come here and move back in with her parents. Not they. Yet again, Oliver was left wondering, where was Thea?

So he asked. "Mom...where is Thea in all of this?"

Moira paled then and slipped her hands from under his. She stood and made her way over to the window that looked out on top the massive hilltop front yard. "She had a rough time of it. First, she lost her father and her brother at the same time; then she was being forced to leave the only home she'd ever known. It was rough on her, Oliver."

He didn't respond to this information, not because he didn't believe her, but because he was too busy focusing on the past tense of her statements. His anxiety was high as he waited impatiently for her to finish the story. He refused to speculate on the could-be of it all and forced him to await the truth.

"She didn't want to move. Acted like the thirteen-year-old she was and passive aggressively acting out about it. She kept-" A sharp almost sad laugh escaped her then and she turned half a step to face him, "She kept insisting that if we moved somewhere else you wouldn't be able to find us." Moira shook her head, "Thea was so positive that you were still alive, Oliver, even when everyone else kept saying otherwise. Thea was so certain. It was so odd, too, because it was _just you_ that she insisted was coming back. Not your father, not Sara, just you." She smiled slightly at him just before she turned back to the window as she whispered, "Somehow, she was right."

The past tense got to him then. Thea _was_ so positive, _was_ so certain, _was_ right. "Why do you keep saying 'was?' " Oliver insisted, standing up and making his way over to his mother. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her gaze away from the well-manicured lawn outside. "Where is Thea?" Her blue eyes wouldn't meet his. "Mom, where is Thea?"

She raised her eyes to his slowly, "She's dead, Oliver."

The floor dropped out from under him then. Dead. Dead. His Speedy was dead? "No. No." Oliver insisted, removing his hand from his mother's padded blazer shoulder, taking two shaky steps backwards, "No, that-that can't be right. Mom, it- you have to be wrong."

She left the window then and bridged the gap between them. She grabbed his face in both her hands and forced him to meet her eyes, "It is true, Oliver. I'm sorry but it is." A tear fell down her cheek as he watched. "I'm the one who found her."

"Found her?" He echoed, voice sounding hollow to his own ears.

Moira nodded sadly, "We didn't have enough cash on us to fly across the country so we were forced to drive it. We were staying at a motel in Arkansas and she was still pouting about having to leave the mansion. She just kept going on and on about us needing to be where you could find us. It had been hours of this same speech, Oliver, you have to understand that. Over and over." She sighed, "I just couldn't take it anymore. I told her to give it up, I said that she needed to grow up, that you were dead and you weren't coming back." A little sob broke her voice then. "I didn't know," she whispered, "I didn't know that it was what was propping her up, giving her strength."

"Finish it." Oliver insisted, his tone was a mix of sorrow interlaced with anger. Moira shook her head again, but her son would have none of it. "Finish the story, mother."

"I left to go get us dinner and she was going to take a shower. I didn't see it coming." Moira took a shaky breath and dropped her eyes again, "When I came back, I found her in the bathtub, Oliver, she'd used a pair of manicure scissors and-"

A sob interrupted her then and Oliver was surprised to find that it had come from his own mouth, "Where? Where is she buried, Mom?"

"She isn't." Her hands dropped from his face then to his shoulders, "I knew she'd want to be buried beside you two, but I couldn't. That wasn't our land anymore…and those were just stones anyway so I had her cremated and her ashes scattered on the ocean."

Thea. Thea was dead. Thea who'd always smiled when he walked into the room when she was just a baby. Thea who would come to him for help on her math homework even when she stopped needing it just to spend time with him. Thea who hated swimming just as much as he did even though both their parents insisted on lessons. Thea who'd spent a good proportion of her childhood following him around. His Thea. The bright loving smile that he had seen in his memories that kept him fighting for five hellish years in the hopes of seeing again; that smile had been forever extinguished. His Speedy was dead.

* * *

**A/N:** Future chapters will be posted as soon as I feel comfortable doing so. Please review if you like this or any of my other stories for that matter.


	2. Rough Night

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings: **Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
_What is this place? _The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series.  
\- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Oliver turned on his side, giving up on sleep for the moment. His mind was simply too busy thinking over all that he'd learned that day to allow him rest. For one thing, there was his mother. She acted so strangely whenever someone else was around, especially her own mother. It was as if she were separate people. Around him alone, she was the woman he remembered: opinionated, sure, and strong. Around Olivia, she was quiet, demur, and meek. The changes were often so sudden that they threatened to give him whiplash. Then there were the lies and he didn't really understand that. Why was she lying? Why didn't she just say "hi mother, I'd like you to meet my son, Oliver?" Why had she called him Jonas Quentin and said he was like a son to her? He was her son, no like about it. Any attempt he'd made to pin her down after dinner to question these things had been thwarted by his grandmother.

Olivia. She too was plaguing his thoughts. She was intimidating in a way that he found hard to define. Her eyes were hard and calculating. When she looked at him, he suspected that she saw through the lies she was told. He wondered, though, why she didn't call the two of them out on the lie. She didn't seem the type of woman to tolerate liars. He also wondered why, when he saw no warmth in her eyes, she had invited him to stay the night when a thunderstorm suddenly overcame Foxworth Hall. Clearly, she was suspicious of him, he supposed that she should be. Who in their right mind invited someone they didn't trust to stay a night in their home? Maybe she just posessed a keep one's enemies closer sort of mentality. He was just grateful that he'd not had to trudge down that steep hill in the rain.

Her husband, Malcolm, was also a source of confusion for Oliver. The old, slightly tarnished metal wheelchair and cotton blanket covering his legs were deceiving. It quickly became apparent that Malcolm Neal Foxworth was not the feeble old man Oliver assumed he was upon their meeting. He was steely-eyed and sharp-tongued. He dealt more backhanded comments to both his wife and daughter then Oliver could keep count of over the hour and a half that the four of them spent eating together. He made a point of telling the younger man of his wealth and considerable power as if Oliver should be impressed by such things. Around Malcolm. Moira changed yet again into the doting daughter. This was the worst change for Oliver to witness. Malcolm didn't deserve such attention, not when he spoke so unkindly towards them both and yet Moira still bestowed kindness upon him. It was maddening to watch.

All of that though was only taking up a small portion of his thoughts, the rest of his time his mind was consumed with thoughts of a little sister now truly lost to him. For some unknown reason, the only thing he could really recall was the memory of Thea's fifth summer and she was convinced that, if she simply believed hard enough, she could fly. Luckily for everyone, he'd managed to snag her before she leapt from the mansion roof in an attempt to prove her theory. She'd been so very mad at him for messing up her plan. She'd shouted at him and informed him that it "wasn't nice of him to change into a grown up!" Her little face had gotten so red. Of course, Thea hadn't held that grudge long at all and within an hour he was back to being her bestest friend again. But he hadn't been so quick to forget and terrible feelings had eaten away at him for having been the one to crush her dream. It didn't matter that he had probably saved her life as a result. He had just had to fix it.

One day, shortly before she was to start first grade, he spent all day running her ragged. Once she passed out from exhaustion, he carried her to one of their Towne Cars and had a family driver take them to the closest amusement park. After he woke her, he had her promise not to peek and covered her eyes with her little hands. He quickly got them both admission tickets and settled her on the swing carousel seat securely. He once more made her promise to keep her eyes shut and placed her hands on the safety bar in front of her. He slipped fluffy earmuffs on her ears right after he told her that she was "finally going to fly." He took the seat on the outside of her own and prepared to enjoy the simple, but fun attraction. Thea's delighted grin as she held her tiny arms out to her sides as the ride spun around and around made Oliver feel much like a child himself. He too had held out his arms and she quickly took his outstretched hand. The two of them had stayed on that ride until the park was just about to close. When the siblings once more climbed in the Towne Car, Thea fell asleep on his shoulder quickly, but not before she sleepily declared him "the best big brother in the whole universe." Memories such as that had given him the power to survive Lian Yu.

In all the time he searched for his family, not once had it ever occurred to him that she wouldn't be here. She was a certainty in his life, the only one he'd never doubted would love him. She was Thea. His Speedy. She was strong, brave and bright. He didn't understand how she could do what she did. It just wasn't like her. His mother's words bounced around his head, though, as he considered Thea's actions. _"Thea was so positive that you were still alive, […] even when everyone else kept saying otherwise."_ It didn't surprise him that his little sister had ignored all the naysayers and stuck stubbornly to her beliefs. That was who Thea had always been: determined, certain. It made him feel vindicated that, at least, his Speedy had known the truth. Though he did wonder what it was that had given her that certainty. Why had she believed when no one else had?

"…_propping her up, giving her strength."_ He had found strength in thinking of his little sister. He'd known that when, never if, he returned home everything would be different and the more time that passed the more he was certain that he would forever be slightly alienated from the people in his life. None of his relationships could ever feel the same after so much time had passed, but at least when it came to Thea, he felt like it wouldn't matter in the long run. She was his sister, he was her brother; they were solid, connected. He'd never had to worry that he wouldn't have her in his life when he returned. But clearly, he should have considered it.

He punched his pillow as his thoughts once more found their way to her death. Why hadn't he been here for her? He should have been! He should never have gotten on that damned yacht! None of them should have. If he'd only been here, he could have helped her, could have saved her. If he hadn't been running from the mess he'd made of his love life, he would have been here, but he'd chosen to destroy his relationship with Laurel by using Sara and now he'd lost the only person in his life who'd always loved him. If that wasn't karma kicking his ass, he didn't know what was.

He swung his legs out from under the thin, scratchy covers of the guest bed and made his way over to the large window seat. The tiny switch locks were quickly undone and the window panes were swung open before he sat down upon the cushy seat. Rain rushed in with help from the wind and pelted his skin, but he didn't mind. The cold drops felt good as he let his head fall back against the cushion. It was as if the heavens themselves were mourning his loss in a way that he could not. He'd lost too much to shed tears any longer so the sky did it for him. His eyes finally drifted shut and soon he was asleep, though it was neither peaceful nor dreamless.

_He reached out, frantic to catch her hand before the greedy ocean pulled her away, but he couldn't bridge the two inches that separated their fingertips. Her bright gree hues met his and she shot him a slightly nervous smile and then she was overtaken by the water. "Thea!" He shouted, pleading for the ocean to give her back, and all of the sudden, he was no longer standing on the Queen's Gambit. He was kneeling by the side of a plaster bathtub, blood covered hands clung to the side as he peered into the shallow depth of water. The water was a diluted pink color that didn't hinder his view of her beneath it. She looked almost peaceful as she floated there, the tip of her nose just peeking above the water line, but she wasn't peaceful. Blood was still seeping from her wrists and every time Oliver tried to grab her, pull her out, his hands always came up empty, but stained with her crimson blood. "Thea!" He shouted, hoping that she'd open her eyes for just a second and see him there, see that she wasn't alone anymore. "Thea!"_

"Oliver." _He turned, looking over his shoulder, but there was no one there. He shook his head and reached for Thea again. Once more all that emerged was his hands covered in blood, her blood. Wetness fell upon his cheeks as he attempted yet again to wipe his hands clean on his clothes. It wouldn't come off and he'd not expected any different. Of course her blood was permanent, like the scars that littered the rest of his body, because he had done this. He'd murdered her because he'd been too scared to just admit that things between him and Laurel weren't working. If he'd just been brave enough to say the words...but he'd used actions and now Thea was dead. Because of him. Because he'd failed. "Thea!"_

"Oliver!"

He was thrown suddenly into reality and the dream faded like vapor. He stared at his mother unable to comprehend her presence for a moment. Why was she there? Lian Yu was no place for her!

He gripped her arm, ready to toss her to the ground to keep her safe when their surroundings registered in his foggy consciousness. They weren't on Lian Yu; they were in Foxworth Hall, the home of his not-so-kind maternal grandparents. His mother was looking at him in a way he'd never seen before. It took a couple seconds for him to realize: she was afraid of him. Why?

"You're hurting me, Oliver." It was said in a soft whisper, but it hit him like a punch to the stomach. He watched in horrified fascination as, in a bright flash of light through the open windows at his back, the pink marks of his fingers began to fade as soon as he released his tight grip. "Oliver," she called again, drawing his attention away from the harm he'd almost done her, "you were screaming."

"For Thea," he supplied as a fragment of his dream resurfaced. She sighed slowly and reached for him. He leaned his head into her touch for just a second, taking comfort in her presence.

"You can't do that," she said in that soft whisper and he straightened up immediately, "scream," she clarified with a small frown. "My parents are very particular."

"Why are you so afraid of them?"

"I'm not afraid of my parents," she countered stubbornly, but he shot her a disbelieving look and she changed her tact. "They are very particular," she repeated. "anything that doesn't fit their narrow views is abhorrent to them. The consequences of not fitting their mold are...severe. I lived under that tyrannical rule until I met your father and now I am once more under their thumb."

"So don't be." It was a simple enough solution. "Walter must want you with him." It took everything in him not to flinch when saying that. "I don't understand why you're here if it's so terrible."

It was only when she stood up, and moved to close the windows he'd opened earlier, that he realized he had been laying on the floor. Huh. He must have rolled off the window seat while he was asleep. She knelt upon the cushions and pulled the windows closed, latching them in the process, before she spoke once more. "I screwed up, sweetheart. I let that everything your father and I worked so hard for slip away and I need to get it back." She turned to face him then, taking a seat on the plush blue velvet seats seemingly unmindful of the fact they were soaked with rain water. "In order for me to do that I need money and, as you probably noticed during dinner, my father is unwell." He nodded absently as the puzzle pieces started slotting together. "Now that I'm finally back in his good graces, I have to play his game and not do anything to risk my inheritance again. If I can just keep him thinking that I'm the daughter he wants until his will is read then I'll finally be able to undo the damage I caused."

_Except to Thea_, he thought bitterly but as soon as the idea flitted across his mind he felt guilty. It was his fault, not hers. Needing a distraction from the direction of his thoughts, Oliver asked, "Again?"

She closed her eyes briefly and folded her hands together. "Malcolm and Olivia are both a part of this small religious group. They've been members since before I was born and because of that, until I met Robert, I too was a member of the congregation. There are many, many obscure rules one must abide." She paused for a moment, searching her mind for examples. "Technology is a big deal breaker for them...that's why you won't find a phone on the property. You won't get a signal on your cellphone either until you cross through the gates back onto the main road."

That was...odd, but surely no reason for her to have been disinherited. Well, unless Malcolm was such an unreasonable zealot, which had not been a part of Oliver's original assessment of the man. It was possible that he'd been off the mark about his grandfather, but he'd gotten really good at reading people during his time on Lian Yu.

"One of these rules of their religion," she continued, "is that daughters may only marry if their father gives his blessing. Without it, in the views of their religion, a marriage is unholy and thusly against God." She met his eyes then, a truth never before spoken shining there. "My father disapproved of Robert and Robert disliked my father so he never really tried to change his mind. I knew getting my father's blessing for our marriage wasn't going to happen. I didn't really give a damn. I didn't, and still don't, believe as they do so what did I care if by the restrictions of their religion our marriage wasn't valid? I loved Robert and I was going to be his wife, come hell or high water."

She smiled then and Oliver recognized it as the smile that she'd always reserved for his father. It both warmed and hurt his heart to see it. Not for the first time, Oliver felt that the wrong man had taken the bullet that night. His father had someone here who loved him. So far in his nearly two years home, all he'd managed to do was hurt and endanger people he cared about. Tommy, Laurel, Felicity. Hell, even Helena and Sara had suffered in one way or another because it was he who returned. It should have been his father.

"My father was so enraged when we'd returned to tell them that we had wed. He called me a whore, claimed we were bound for Hell, and, here I do quote, 'marriages against God would bear no good fruit, only spawn of the devil.'" Children. Her father had said that any children they might have would evil. Him. Thea. Evil. That was just ridiculous!

"He only allowed me back, forgave me my 'indiscretion' after you and your father were... You were gone, Thea was..." Yet again, the sentence faded away into silence. "There was no reason to risk his anger again by telling him about you two and now..."s

"Now the lie has gone on too long to tell the truth." Oliver supplied and she nodded almost eagerly. He understood her train of thought. The lie she'd told, about who he was, was hurting no one and it wasn't as if he needed or wanted grandparents; he'd always just assumed they'd died when his mother was young and that was why they were never spoken of. "I'll play along as best I can."

Moira smile then, relaxed and bright. "You'll stay until lunch tomorrow, won't you? Walter's flying in tomorrow morning. The three of us can grab lunch in town so we won't have to be constantly on guard." At his look of weariness she persisted, "Please, Oliver? He is my husband now and I would so like it if you could find some way to be okay with that, sweetheart."

A smart man knows when he's beaten. His mother was the only family he had left. He couldn't let his reluctance to accept her new love separate them. He couldn't lose her too.

He nodded and she disappeared out his door, needing no more assurances then that. He stayed there for a moment, sitting on the expensive carpet, shivering as his wet nightclothes, borrowed from Walter's closet. What would his mother have said to her father if Thea hadn't lost her way? He shook his head, disappointed in himself for even pondering the what-if. Doing so would give him nothing but more sorrow. He made his way to the bathroom to warm his chilled skin and was determined not to think anymore.

After his shower, Oliver felt warmed but still unable to sleep so he redressed in his borrowed nightclothes, still wet from the rain but wearable, and decided to explore the large mansion. His mother had taken him on a brief tour of the estate after it became apparent that he would be staying the night. He wanted to know more, wanted to see all the nooks that his mother might have hidden inside when playing hide-and-seek as a child, things like that to soften the harsh impression he had of this mammoth estate. This house, these mysterious grandparents, they were pieces to the mystery that was Moira Foxworth Queen and Oliver hated mysteries.

He crept quietly down the hall, sneaking noiselessly past his mother's bedroom. Inwardly he had groaned when she presented him with the opulence behind that door. She was so proud of what her father's money had bought her. She'd always enjoyed the perks of money before, but this...this pride she took in it was verging on adolescent. He simply could not reconcile the woman he remembered with the one he'd met since arriving at Foxworth Hall.

He'd hidden his confusion and displeasure with her change well, using the same carefree partyboy mask he showed everyone who'd known him before, and complimented his mother on her courageous design choices. That huge, ugly swan bed was just so...overpowering though, he'd had to make his exit quickly before his mask slipped and his disgust for such overindulgence showed through. Before the island, he'd reveled in their family's rich lifestyle and now the mere glimmer of such attitudes made him angry.

Oliver was just about to head downstairs, maybe go check out the damage from last night's storm when someone began to come up the staircase. In the light of a new day the sight of Olivia Foxworth still set alarm bells off in Oliver's mind. Was it the color of her dress? The thin pressed line of her mouth? The steel in her gaze? Oliver couldn't pin his unease and distrust on any one factor and that was what really made him cautious. He'd gotten very good at identifying enemies over the years and Olivia Foxworth, his own maternal grandmother, was an enemy, but she was the most dangerous kind. The enemies he couldn't truly define had always been his most fearsome.

As she drew closer to him, he ducked back into his room and stealthily watched her as she passed his door. Her focus was upon a door at the end of the hall, however, and she'd failed to notice his hastily made retreat or the fact he was watching her. He, on the other hand, took note of everything he could. In her rather large hands she carried a picnic basket of about medium size that, based upon the smells that wafted in as she passed, contained reheated selections from last night's dinner and a jug of milk from what he could see of the top. She stopped in front of the door, shifted the weight of the basket to her left arm and pulled a single key from the right pocket of her dress. She slipped the key in the lock and with a simple turn of it and the knob she opened the door and entered the room.

Once the door closed behind her, Oliver stepped out into the hall once more. His ears picked vague, muffled words that he attributed to Olivia. Who was she bringing food to? Based on what he'd been told during his quick tour, Malcolm, Olivia and Moira were the only ones to live on this top floor of the house. The live in servants, like that unusual butler who answered the door, all lived on the first floor in the quote "servants' quarters." There should be no one in that room and yet the aging woman had carted that basket up those stairs and at such an early hour too. Why?

His ears strained to make out any further sounds from the room, but the only voice he ever heard was Olivia's. Yet another mystery to add to the ever growing pile since he arrived at Foxworth. Quick on his feet, Oliver turned and pretended to be utterly absorbed in a painting on the wall near him as the woman exited the room in question. He pretended not to see her or that she slid that key in the lock and clicked the mechanism in place. What was she hiding in there?

"Good morning, Mister Quentin," she said and he jumped as if he were startled by her sudden appearance at his side. "I'm surprised to see someone else up so early. Did you not sleep well?"

"I'm an early riser these days." He stated simply and she nodded, taking his explanation at face value. "Thank you for your hospitality last night, Mrs. Foxworth."

Her face wore a bored and neutral expression as she replied, "It is my husband you should be thanking, Mister Quentin, not myself." She turned to face him then and he instinctively mirrored the change, "My husband has a weak spot where Moira is concerned and so you stayed the evening, but you would do well to not overstay your welcome."

He frowned slightly as he considered her word choice, "But you do not?"

"Do not what?"

"Have a weak spot when your daughter is involved?"

A dry, rattling laugh escaped her cracked lips. "No, I see that girl for all the evil that she is and all the darkness she creates."

Evil, darkness, heavy words for someone to say about their own child. His frown pulled deeper and, just as he opened his mouth to defend his mother, she appeared at his side and pulled him away from the conversation. "Never, ever engage my mother in a one-on-one conversation," she whispered urgently. "She can see through a lie like no one I've ever met."

Try as best he could, Oliver couldn't wrap his mind around this version of his mother: so paranoid, so afraid. There was nothing for him to say in response to her assertion so he chose to say nothing. It didn't matter to his mother that he did not answer for she just continued speaking, "Walter's arrival has been delayed by business until tomorrow." Oliver didn't much care, but it was clear that his mother did and so he spent most of the day trying to cheer her spirits. But the mysterious room was never far from his mind. What was behind that door? Why had Olivia been talking to no one? The longer he stayed in this place the more confused he became.

* * *

**A/N:** Guys, I love that you all are favorite/following this story, but you know what else is an even better sign that you all like this story? Reviews. Please review.


	3. The Attic

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings: **Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
_What is this place? _The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series.  
\- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

That afternoon, after his weird encounter with Olivia and spending the day getting reacquainted with his mother, Oliver was greeted at lunch with the news that the road had been cleared of any hindering debris from the previous night's storm. He was pleased with the chance to escape that unusual Twilight Zone of a mansion. Even that crappy motel he was currently checked into was appealing compared to this place. Yet, as Oliver was eating his soup in the silence of meal time, he couldn't forget that strange room at the end of the hall and the curiosity it wrought. It shouldn't trouble him so much. Olivia was getting up there in years; it was entirely plausible that what he'd seen was just a lapse of sanity. He'd learned long ago to trust his instincts though and his gut was telling him that there was more to what he'd seen, that it was not just a case of senility. He needed to investigate that room.

It was just a matter of timing. Olivia would definitely need to be out of the mansion for an extended period. Clearly, she wanted no one to be in that room and, if he wanted to have time to satisfy his curiosity he couldn't risk her finding him there. Ideally, he'd also like to have his mother out of the house too. She was so changed by this place that he simply could not trust that her loyalty lay with him.

Then Olivia presented him with the perfect opportunity. She turned to him rather suddenly and said, "We are having a party for members of our church tonight if you'd like to attend, Mister Quentin." It wasn't the warmest invitation that he'd ever received, but he suspected that the elder woman was incapable of warmth. His mother shot him a frantic look, but Oliver couldn't pass up the chance. How was he to turn down his chance to get to meet the closed minded people that had almost cost him his very existence? He wanted to meet them, to hear their beliefs for himself.

Besides, how could he pass up the perfect opportunity to explore that room? So, he did what was expected of him. He attended the party, conversed with the members of his grandparents' church and avoided talking to either Olivia or Malcolm one on one. He did everything right so that when he exited the large, yet intimate gathering, no one had even batted an eye when he claimed to need the restroom and disappeared from the party.

He didn't let his minor victory get to his head, though, creeping on quiet feet towards that mystifying door. Ever since he'd seen the stern woman enter that room, it had plagued his thoughts. He couldn't figure out why the mystery was haunting him. There were plenty of other questions to occupy his mind, many of them more pressing then that room and yet...

Oliver sighed as he came to a halt in front of the wood door and knelt down. He knew why; he was avoiding facing reality. He focused on the room to keep from thinking about Thea. It had never occurred to him on his journey to Virginia that he might be returning Starling City by himself. The idea of going home without his sister had not crossed his mind. Thinking about the room was so much easier then dealing with all he'd suddenly lost.

It took him only a minute to pick the old door lock. It opened as he turned the knob and he was quick to step inside the room lest someone spot him. He leaned back against the door for a moment with his eyes closed before he opened them and discovered…nothing. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find inside the room, but whatever it was, it wasn't what he'd found.

The room was simply that, a room. The walls were all dark paneled wood and the few windows were heavily curtained. There was a single twin bed and a nightstand was placed beside it upon which only a bible and a small lamp rested. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a dresser beside the door where Oliver stood. There was not a single speck of dust anywhere and nothing was out of place. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

Oliver stepped away from the door and began to look closely at the room for any sign of why Olivia would have come inside. There was nothing. Not a single thing, which was evidence of something peculiar in and of itself. Just as he was about to give up, having found nothing out of the ordinary about the empty guest quarters, he heard it. After a few heartbeats of absolute stillness, it came again: a creak from above his head.

He frowned in confusion. There was no floor above him and yet there was continual creaks and squeaks. It didn't much sense. Once more convinced there was something peculiar, Oliver began to explore the room in depth. He found the secret entrance inside of the closet on accident when his elbow struck it in an attempt to find the light switch for the small bulb above his head. Curiosity eating at him, Oliver didn't hesitate to climb the darkened staircase.

The attic room, lit only by moonlight streaming in through the single window he could spot, was nothing like the attic that they had possessed in Starling City. There was old, forgotten items cluttering the space, but the room's uniqueness stemmed from the art covering its wall space; every spare inch of wall space, not covered by furniture, depicted something. The pictures chronicled a great deal as Oliver walked the long space. The paintings near the stairway that he'd just climbed where clearly done by a child, but with each step he took the paintings that then evolved into drawings matured and grew in complexity. He'd be truly impressed by the body of work if seeing it didn't inspire such sadness.

With each depiction he passed, it became more and more clear who the artist was. The creations had started innocently enough: a tree, a butterfly, a dog. Just before the artist had run out of paint, the images became more telling: an older man pushing a little girl on a swing, a large house that looked like Queen Manor. Then mid room, came the most damning evidence, a portrait of himself and his father. Each step he took from that point was filled with dread as he passed images of Tommy, Laurel, Sara and even one of Detective and Mrs. Lance. Most prevalent among the images adorning the walls though were various drawings of his father or himself. There was only one person who could have made these. Some of the depicted moments had only been between them, between himself and Thea.

By the time he rounded the corner, the drawings were really well done, no longer the work of childish hands, but that of a skilled adult. Instead of the individual drawings that had covered the rest of the attic walls, these three walls depicted a single image: a large ocean with choppy waves and yacht struggling to stay upright among the unsettled water. It was an eerie depiction of the Queen's Gambit's final moment. Why had she drawn that? It was so painstakingly done too. _It must have taken her weeks to complete_, he thought, and then shivered. The idea of her, his bubbly little sister, in this attic for weeks was bad, though clearly based on the body of work displayed in this stuffy room, she been here for more than a few weeks. _Oh God._

Thea didn't notice him, standing off to her right side. She should have heard him coming, he'd not been quiet on his approach, but her attention was entirely on the picture she was sketching on the floorboards. He took a few steps back and a little to the left so he could glimpse the image that had so engrossed her. Surrounded by both sharpened pencils and well used nubs was a picture of a place he had only visited once and could never forget: his gravesite. She'd taken great efforts in depicting both his and his father's headstones; the shading and defects in both stone surfaces were perfect. It was eerie.

She was focused, however, on the spot in the drawing next to his gravestone. His stomach plummeted as he leaned forward on his toes to peer over her head. She was engraving a name upon a third stone: her own. He reached then to take her shoulder. She needed to know he was there; she needed to stop drawing that picture.

She turned suddenly, startled like a frightened rabbit, and Oliver took a step back from shock. Her face was gaunt, her cheeks and eye sockets hollowed out, but it was the look in her gaze that scared him most. His Speedy wasn't in those eyes. His Speedy, who'd made him pinky promise to be back in just a few days, was long gone. The girl looking at him now was sad and lost to the darkness of life.

Thea turned her head slightly as she looked at him. She didn't move or do anything else; she just blinked at him. For several tense seconds, the siblings were a frozen tableau. Then Thea stood up, frowning at him, her eyes turning hard as she closed the distance between them. She stopped walking once the two were standing toe to toe with each other. He opened his mouth to say something, say anything, when all of the sudden she pulled back and punched him. He reeled back, reaching up to cover his jaw where her fist connected.

"What the hell, Thea?" He asked angrily. That was not the way he'd imagined their reunion taking place at all. She wasn't listening to him though; her attention was focus solely on her knuckles. Her eyes were locked upon her bruising skin as if she'd never seen her own hand before. His anger dissipated at the confused look upon her face. "Thea? Are you okay?" He asked, moving toward her, "Speedy?"

Her eyes snapped up to his then as if she hadn't known he was there. Suddenly, Thea was flinging her arms around him and clinging almost to the point of pain, but he didn't dare complain. He simply wrapped his arms around her and held onto her tightly as she cried into his shoulder and neck. For several minutes, the two of them just stood there hugging until the tears stopped wrecking her small frame. Only when he was certain that she no longer needed his shoulder for her tears did he pull back to look down at her face. Up close the little things he'd noticed before were so much worse. With his arms wrapped around her as they were, he could feel each of her ribs and the very top jutt of her hipbones. _Oh God._ His mind was reeling. _She's alive. Mom lied. Why? Why did she tell me…why would she say such things?_

"Thea, what-" He started to ask before realizing that he had too many questions to ask and no idea where to start. It had been six years, six long years, since they'd spoken. Too much had changed. She simply blinked up at him, patiently waiting for him to finish the question. Patient had never been a word he'd used to describe his younger sister before. Always a ball of energy, that was his Speedy, but now…"Why haven't you said anything?"

It took several seconds, but eventually she said, "Ollie." That was it. Just his nickname. It was all he needed to understand her previous silence. Her voice was raw, rough and pained as she spoke the singular word and Oliver pulled her close again.

"Oh, Thea," he whispered into her long hair. "How long have you been alone in this room? How many years?"

"What year-"

"is it?" Oliver finished for her and Thea nodded against his chest. "2012." She was quiet for a moment as she did the mental calculations.

"Four years." Thea had been locked up in this room with no one else to interact with for four years. His stomach dropped at the thought. His Speedy didn't deserve this. She didn't belong here.

"Come on," He said suddenly making Thea jump a little in his arms, "we're leaving this place. Now." She backed away eyes wide with panic. She shook her head negatively. "Thea, what?"

She picked up a book from the floor and a nub of a pencil. Her hand flew frantically across the page for a minute before tossing the book to him. Oliver opened the book and scanned her writings. _Nowhere to go, Ollie. No home. No one. Have to stay. You should go. You need to go. Grandmother can't see you here, can't know you exist. Leave. _He stared at her words, a mix of sadness, horror and anger swirling in him.

"No, I'm not leaving. Not without you."

"You have to!" Thea insisted, hand flying to her throat from the pain speaking had caused her. Oliver flinched in sympathy. How long had she gone without speaking that even such small sentences caused her pain? "Grandmother-"

Oliver interrupted her, "I don't care." He insisted, standing and tugging her up to join him. "I don't care." He repeated determinedly. He didn't know why his mother had lied, why she'd left Thea in here, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting Thea out of this room. "You and I are getting out of here, now, and we're going home."

Thea's gaze dropped immediately to the floor then. Clearly, she had something to say, but could not do so. As that thought occurred to him, Oliver grew angry. Angry at the grandmother who'd clearly frightened Thea into complying over the years she'd been trapped. Angry at his mother who had allowed the young girl to sacrifice her youthful innocence for what? _Why would mom do this? Why would she keep Thea in this room? Why keep her a secret from me? What the hell had happened?_ No matter what reason Moira could conceive of for this act, it would never be enough.

Looking down upon his sister, so broken, so shattered, Oliver knew his relationship with his mother would never be the same. His love for, and perhaps more importantly, his trust in her was in tatters. All of the sudden, she'd made it a choice between herself and Thea. Pulling his sister into his side, wrapping a protective arm about her shoulders, he realized it was never a choice. Thea was his sister, she needed him; it was never a choice. "Come on," he said softly, "We're going home."

"Home." There was such a dreaminess to the single repeated word that Oliver felt a pang in his chest. He'd suffered so much on the island and the one fact he'd taken comfort in during all of it was that it was only him who'd had to go through such horror. But it hadn't been just him. Thea had gone through something terrible too, something different, but equally damaging. It wasn't right that they'd both suffered. It wasn't right that the simple notion of home should make his sister so…hopeful.

Before he could ask her anything further, Thea was pulling away from him and moving about the attic. Her footsteps were slow and a bit shaky, as if she were unable to trust her own body to continue moving, but she stepped with confidence, dodging loose or uneven boards with the air of someone well acquainted with the room itself. He watched as she went from one piece of furniture to another, gathering articles of clothing he'd not taken note of earlier. With her arms full, Thea made her way towards a suitcase that had clearly seen better days. She struggled to open it and Oliver moved quickly to assist her in her task. Once the worn, navy blue case was opened and the pile of garments in her arms was deposited. He took a hold of the handle in his left hand and he wrapped his right arm about her waist to assist her.

She nodded slowly, agreeing to the next task without needing him to say it, and together the two moved down the stairs. It was an arduous task for the girl. Oliver couldn't help wondering how it was exactly that Thea had climbed the stairs to get up to the attic that morning when she was having such trouble getting down them. He pulled his sister to his side tighter as they finally reached the room at the end of the staircase. She was swaying upon her feet as they walked out of the closet and into the main room again.

Only with her at his side, did Oliver truly realize what had been so glaring about this room before. It was too empty, too clean. His sister had been living here for four years and yet there was no evidence of her. No sign that she'd spent even a minute in this room, much less four years. Why was that? _Had their grandmother, who she'd spoken so fearfully of earlier, forced her into being this invisible?_ The thought made him even more proud of the art in the attic. She'd not been wholly invisible. She'd defied whatever made her forgotten in this room and made sure that the attic bore her markings. She made sure that she wouldn't be forgotten, even if it was in such a little way. It was an ever so small glimmer of the sister he remembered.

"Ready?" He asked softly causing Thea to jump a bit at his side. She nodded eagerly, the first sign of excitement that he'd seen from her yet. He smiled in the hopes that she'd stay as alive as she suddenly seemed. Together the two walked to the door as a unit, both his hands occupied, one on her hip and the other one holding her suitcase. She reached forward, hand hesitating slightly before the grabbing the knob and twisting. The door opened and Thea stared out of the doorway as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. He gripped her hip just a little tighter to shake the shock from her and she looked at him, briefly before they crossed through the door together. Once in the hallway, Thea's eyes swept over her surroundings eagerly, trying to absorb everything. _Had things changed so greatly over the last four years, _Oliver wondered,_ or is it all the same as it was when she arrived?_

Thea leaned curiously over the banister a bit to look down at the gathering still going on below. Huh. Oliver had kind of forgotten that there was a party at all. _Guess that's normal for when one finds their supposedly dead sister alive in an attic nearly starved to death. _Suddenly as if knowing she was being watched, Moira's eyes shot up to their floor and Thea scrambled back, terrified. It was such a sudden movement that Oliver stumbled as well, having had such a firm hold on her as she moved. He didn't need to ask her why she was frightened by their mother seeing them. It was obvious from the panic in her wide eyes, she feared being caught out of her room. Thea was crowding back against the wall, the furthest she could get from the bannister and anyone's possible eye-line. He recognized those behaviors. She was acting like a trapped and frightened wild animal. _What the hell had they done to my baby sister?_

He had half a mind to march down there and just lay into his mother, his grandmother, and whomever else for this. _I'll start with our names and tell them all exactly who we are. _He would do it too…except for Thea. She looked so scared just being out of that room. He couldn't put her through any confrontation. It wouldn't be fair to her and she'd suffered so much unfairness in the past years. Oliver wasn't about to be the cause of anymore harm coming to her. How then was he going to get her out of this place if he couldn't get her to the first floor safely? _How?_

"Thea," Oliver said approaching her carefully. Her green eyes shot to his immediately alight emotion he couldn't quite read. "What should we do? What do you want to do? Should we go down there and just leave or…" He trailed off, unsure what the other option was exactly. However, he couldn't force her to descend those stairs, though; not when she was so frightened. "Or we could head to the room I crashed in until everyone leaves," He suggested softly, moving to stand in front of her. It was the best he could do to shield her from what was frightening her so. "We can sneak out in the night and you'll need to see no one."

Thea just stood there and looked at him. She blinked and breathed, but that was it. Oliver couldn't look away. It felt as if the two of them were balancing on a edge of something as they stared at each other. He didn't want to risk her fall off that precipice alone. Then, suddenly, Thea's expression changed. Her features shifted from panicked to something blank, almost cold. It was worrying. However, before he could think too much on it, she did something Oliver could never have anticipated. She pulled herself up to her full height and crossed to the banister again. Instead of only peeking over it as she had done before, Thea peered over it without any attempt to conceal herself. She looked down at her dress, slightly dirty, and straightened the straps on her shoulders and tugged on the fabric about her hips. It didn't fit her skinny frame quite right, but still when she turned to face him, he found himself briefly astounded by her beauty. _There's my Speedy._

"Let's go." She said, reaching out for his hand, almost instinctively. He grabbed her hand quickly and squeezed gently. Together, the two started down the staircase. It, like in the attic, was a slow descent, but no one took notice of them. The church going folk were much too focused on their inane conversations to see much of anything at all. The duo crossed to the edge of the large foyer, around the fringes of the party. The closer they got to the door, the harder Thea squeezed his hand, but he paid it no attention. _Just get to the door, just get her out. _That was all he could think as they moved stealthily. Yet with each step they took, Oliver felt as though something terrible was about to happen. There was no reason to think such things after all, they were almost to the grand door. Then it happened.

"Oliver." Thea froze beside him as their mother's voice sounded above the din of the party. He tightened his grip on her hand and urged her to continue moving with a push of his hip against hers. The girl took the hint and grabbed the doorknob pulling it open. As soon as the first gust of wind hit her face, Thea was running out the door dragging her brother behind her. He thought, for sure, that as soon as they breached the wrought-iron gates they would have stopped running, but Thea kept going. The further away they got from the house the more concerned Oliver grew. _She shouldn't be running so hard, so fast. So suddenly._

Soon after that thought occurred to him, the duo was suddenly jerked to a stop as Thea collapsed to the ground. Her face was bloodless and scrunched in pain when he turned to look at her. _Of course she cannot run. She's been stuck in that room for years. _He handed the suitcase off to her and swept her up into his arms before she could think to ask him what was happening. He'd call for a taxi to take them to the motel as soon as they were far enough away, but for now… "I'm getting you out of here, Speedy." He explained softly and carried her further down the road.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry, this chapter took so long. The next chapter is fighting me a bit, but it's almost done. **Please review!** It inspires me to write faster. ;)


	4. Rooms

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings: **Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
_What is this place? _The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series.  
\- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The moonlight streamed in through the window, broken up by the tree branches and their own shadows, as the car drove onward away from the hell house that was Foxworth Hall. Oliver was grateful for the shadowed light as it allowed him to see his sister despite the darkness of the night outside the taxicab. Thea was cuddled into his side as much as her seatbelt allowed; her head was bent at an almost painful angle to rest just barely on his shoulder. Under the silvery light, her features were even more distressing.

In the dusty attic, he'd not truly comprehended the horror that was the physical ramifications of her last four years, but now he could see. He could see the hollows around and under her eyes while they moved under her eyelids in her light slumber. Her cheeks were darkened by the slight shadows of sunken skin and her lips were slightly cracked. Her skin was almost translucent under the light of the moon and there was a slight blue hue that lay under the surface. It was horrifying to see the changes in her face. When he'd left that mansion oh so long ago, she'd been a beautiful, perfect child; she was only twelve then, but she'd been smart, smarter than even he'd given her credit for, and beautiful, like a perfect little doll. He still remember how she'd giggled and twirled every time that their mother had bought her a new outfit.

Now she was verging on eighteen-years-old and she barely resembled the girl he'd left behind. There was still a beauty to her harrowed features, no amount of time or mistreatment could steal that from her, but the horrors she'd no doubt experienced had taken their toll. It was etched into her bones and ran under her skin. He suspected that it was only something someone like him could see, someone who faced the horrors of life too. However, whether others could see or not, it was still there in every slight move she made in her sleep, every twitch and hitch in her breathing. It had pained him to know that while he'd suffered on the island, she too had suffered in that attic room.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Oliver's gaze snapped from Thea to the cab driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. The man had been weary of ditching his planned fare for the two of them. However, when he had gotten a closer look at Thea in Oliver's arms, he'd radioed into his company to have them send another car for his planned fare and took them in. It was because of the man's kindness that Oliver didn't snap at him when he commented, "The girl looks very ill."

"No," Oliver said softly so as not to wake his the slumbering girl beside him, "she has an appointment with a doctor in the morning. I just want to get her to the motel and in bed." It took him only two seconds to hear how that sounded and attempt to correct the possible misunderstanding. "Into a bed, not..." He trailed off as he noticed the look the driver was shooting him in the mirror. "She's my sister. I'd never hurt her."

The man muttered, "Someone did," as Oliver's gaze turned once more to his sister's sleeping face. He couldn't argue with the man's claim. Someone had hurt Thea; someone who should have taken care of her.

He met the man's eyes in the rearview mirror and nodded. "Never again." The driver blinked solemnly before turning his gaze to the highway ahead of them once more.

It was only another fifteen minutes before the cab came to a stop in front of the motel. The red sign flickered in and out indicating the numerous vacancies they had. Oliver turned a little in his seat to shake the girl awake gently, "Thea, Thea, wake up, we're here, Speedy." Her green eyes blinked open slowly and, for a second, she looked as he remembered, innocent and unencumbered by the years they'd spent apart, and then it was gone. Suddenly, the shadows rushed back to her eyes. "Come on," he whispered again as he reached over without looking and pulled on the door handle to open it.

He slid out of the cab and she followed him without a word, still holding tight to the suitcase. Suddenly he was glad he'd chosen to wear the outfit he'd arrived to Foxworth Hall in to the party. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet, paying and tipping the driver very well for his trouble; the keycard to the room was retrieved at the same time. "Thank you," he said to the driver sincerely and the man nodded before driving away from the Budget Inn, leaving the two reunited siblings alone in the parking lot.

Oliver turned to Thea and held up the key between his index and middle fingers. "Shall we head in for the night?" She smiled a little Oliver led the way to the room he'd rented. The little green light flashed three times and then, with a push on the handle, they were inside.

"I'm sorry it's not a nicer room," He said as he clicked on the florescent lights bathing the space in a hideous orange glow. "I didn't think I'd be here more than a couple of days," Oliver explained, "and well, I didn't think I'd actually find you here." No, given that her name had failed to come up in any of Felicity's internet research, Oliver had honestly hoped that his sister was simply too busy studying hard in college to do anything internet worthy. He'd never imagined that he would find her locked in a room like he did. It was simply unfathomable.

"It's fine," Thea whispered, hand still moving unconsciously to her throat. She took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed. "It's wonderful…" She trailed off, but Oliver knew what she meant; anything was better than that room.

He sat down beside her, "We'll rent a better room from a better place tomorrow." He was determined to get her the best room in the grandest hotel in Virginia for a couple of days before they moved on. It wouldn't make up for anything, but it would ease his mind just a little for a few days. Her yawn broke the silence only seconds after it had fallen upon them and he turned to smile a little at her, "Why don't you lie down and get some more sleep? I'm just going to step outside for a couple of minutes to check in with a few people back home." Her panicked look in response to his suggestion had him quickly adding, "I'll be right outside the door, Speedy."

She still looked a little uneasy about the idea, but she nodded her okay anyway. He decided to take a chance and leaned over a little so he could press a tiny kiss to her temple. It was something he used to do when she was scared of the monsters under her bed and she'd crawled into his seeking safety. A small, slightly broken sound escaped her lips when he pulled back, but it wasn't a sad sound, just…surprised. "Right outside the door." He reminded her as he reached for his cellphone in his pocket.

Just as he was slipping back out into the night air, he saw Thea move towards the bathroom, still carrying her suitcase. He was unsurprised to find that he had several voicemails from both John and Felicity, but he didn't have the time to listen to them. Oliver clicked on John's name in the list and listened to it ring once, twice, three times before a groggy John Diggle answered the phone. It was a quick conversation, nothing more than a quick exchange of pleasantries before he got to the point of his call. "Dig, do you know any doctors in Virginia? Preferably a doctor that could see us after hours, off the books?"

"Us?" Diggle asked, his voice crackling through the iPhone's speaker. "Did you find them, your mother and sister? What's wrong?"

"Do you know a doctor or not, Dig?" Oliver asked curtly. He didn't have time to feed the older man's curiosity.

Diggle seemed to get the message. "Yeah, I'll make the call in the morning."

"Thanks."

"Be careful, Oliver."

"Always," Oliver assured his bodyguard. It had felt kind of stupid to be hiring a bodyguard when he was quite capable of defending himself. What had started as merely a show for the public after his kidnapping upon returning to Starling City turned out to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made. The former military man had been a fantastic asset when Oliver was trying to complete his mission. Even when Oliver had temporarily put a hold on that to find his family, Diggle was willing to assist him. Sure, it hadn't always been easy, they'd butted heads on several occasions, but theirs was a camaraderie that Oliver wouldn't change for anything.

He thought about calling Felicity while he was contacting people, but he knew that if he did the girl would babble endlessly. Usually he found the babble was comforting, a little endearing even, but didn't have time for that at the moment; he had to get back to Thea. He sent her a quick text with the basic, 'yes, I'm alive and okay, call tomorrow,' before making his way back into the motel room.

The sight of his sister sprawled out on the bed in ill-fitting nightclothes had him smiling in a rare moment of peace. It was so like many moments he remembered; as if the last several years were nothing but a nightmare and he was once more confronted with his little tweleve-year-old Speedy once again. With a few button pushes, Oliver flipped his phone to do-not-disturb settings and set the alarm. He put the device down on the nightstand and triple checked the door locks, before moving to the bed. He picked his sleeping sister up, threw the covers back, and set her down again on the far side of the bed, away from the door. He pulled the covers up and tucked her in tightly before he was climbing in beneath the covers himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest in the process. He rested his chin in her hair and let sleep claim him. They were together now and that was all that mattered, wasn't it?

The next day the two siblings spent together in the motel room. He'd tried to convince her to leave after they woke, to get breakfast, but she refused to do so. As a compromise between her desire to stay in the rented room and the necessity of food, Oliver called out for it. Except for eating, the two of them simply spent their day talking to each other. Wwll he talked and Thea wrote her words on the complimentary notepad. Instead of discussing the years they'd spent apart, Oliver and Thea discussed happier times; memories, it turned out, that had sustained them both while they were not together. It was only after Diggle confirmed that his doctor friend, from his time in the armed forces, was willing to see them after hours and off the books that Oliver even dared broach the subject. It had taken a lot of pleading on his part to make Thea stop shaking her head and attend the appointment, but they'd made it.

Once there, Oliver sat stiff and utterly still outside of the doctors' office. Diggle's doctor friend had grumbled when he'd insisted on sitting right outside the examination room, but Oliver would not be moved. He'd sworn to Thea that he'd stay outside the room while the doctor checked her out. Every half a minute or so, he saw her angling her head to look out the small glass pane in the door. _Is she checking to make sure I've not left her? Or is she concerned that I'm a figment of her imagination?_

He wanted to know what was going through her head so badly. _What is she feeling? What had she gone through? _His hands clenched at his sides. He wanted so badly to go back to that house of horrors and demand answers. _Why did mom lock Thea away like that?_ No answer she could ever give would be suitable enough to explain away her actions, but he still wanted an answer. _Why had she lied to him and said that Thea had killed herself? Was she simply too ashamed of what she'd done to her daughter? Or perhaps she'd feared his reaction if she'd told him the truth?_ This, he mused, as he smiled tightly when his sister's green eyes peered from behind her privacy curtain, was not a better way to find out. His impulsive, angry nature wanted to march back to Foxworth Hall, but he could not. Thea wasn't ready for him to leave her side yet and there was no way in Hell that he was taking her back there.

He sat up a little straighter as Doctor Blanchard stepped from behind the curtain. She pulled the mint green paper divider back, allowing him a full image of Thea. Though he'd not thought it possible, Thea looked even tinier in the drooping paper gown. The doctor talked from a few minutes and then gestured out towards the hallway. Thea turned then to look at him for a second before turning back to the doctor and saying something followed by a brief nod. A few seconds more and the doctor was exiting the room.

"Mr. Queen?" The woman said as soon as the door to the examination room was closed behind her. "Your sister will be done in a minute, she's just getting redressed." She nodded then seemingly to herself, flipping a few pages on her clipboard. "She's almost eighteen now and she tells me that you aren't her legal guardian so normally I couldn't discuss her health with you. She gave me permission, however, and I'm aware that your situation is unique, so once she is finished redressing all of us will sit and discuss." He nodded, his eyes still watching for his sister to reappear.

The doctor pointedly cleared her throat dragging his attention away from the room. "While we wait, though, I must recommend your sister seek some serious psychiatric help."

"What?"

"In the hour we just spent together, I could only get her to tell me what was absolutely necessary." She sighed and let the clipboard drop to her side, "I'm not saying she should have told me everything, she doesn't know me, but her reluctance to answer even the simplest of inquiries without serious consideration is quite telling in and of itself. Her physical trauma tells more of the story for her...and it's not a good one."

"Physical trauma?" Oliver echoed, voice going hollowed as panicked eyes turned back to the door that separated them. His mind recalling, against his will, painful memories of his time on the island. What was taking her so long?

"I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of phrase," The doctor said. "I just meant that, as a doctor, her body gives me clues to what she won't say."

"And what she's not saying tells you she needs to see a shrink?" He asked turning to look at the doctor once again as he saw the door to the attached bathroom open.

"I'm saying that it couldn't hurt her..." The woman met his eyes for a moment before adding, "It wouldn't do you any harm either."

"Excuse me?" He'd not said more than three sentences to the doctor and yet she presumed to know enough about him to suggest he see a psychiatrist.

"When John called me, I googled you, Mr. Queen." She explained, "If even a fifth of what I found on the internet is true, talking through what happened might be good for you too." The door squeaked open then putting a halt to their conversation.

"I'm done," Thea said, eyeing them both with suspicion. Oliver tossed her a casual smile and followed her back inside the examination room. The siblings both took a seat on the paper-covered bed and Doctor Blanchard took a seat in her swiveling office chair across from them.

Once they were all settled, the doctor started telling them her diagnosis on Thea. Every word she said was a bunch of doctor jargon, but Oliver understood the basics anyway. Due to a lack of sunshine exposure and exercise, Thea's bones were more weakened then they should be at her age, her muscles were slightly deteriorated, and that was just the start of it. Apparently, even her ability to breathe had been affected by her captivity. It was at this point that Thea slipped her hand into his. He knew why it was that his sister had taken his hand; she feared whatever else the doctor might have to say. He didn't blame her for it; he too was scared of what would be said. The young doctor didn't seem to notice their unease. She just ploughed forward in her explanation by saying that Thea was suffering from malnutrition, which Oliver knew just by looking at her.

"What worries me most is your vocal cords, Miss Queen," She said, casting a worried, watery smile at the girl, "and your heart, of course."

"Her heart? What's wrong with her heart?" Oliver asked frantically.

The doctor's gaze turned to him as if she'd forgotten he was sitting beside her patient. "Well, the heart is a muscle too and, just like the ones in her arms and legs, it has suffered from the lack of proper exercise over the years. It has slightly atrophied as well, but unlike the other muscles I've discussed, if she pushes her heart too hard, it could give out."

"Heart attack?" Thea asked in her rough voice.

"She's far too young for that." Oliver countered out of sheer stubbornness. "She's only 17."

"Yes, I am aware of that," The doctor said, looking between them. "Just...go easy, okay? Don't push your body too hard too fast. All things in moderation, yeah?" Oliver turned his gaze to Thea then. He searched her features for a sign, any sign of what she was thinking. Once upon a time, he could read her thoughts and moods better than a book. It seemed that time had stolen that from him as well. "Now, as for her vocal cords, disuse has damaged them as well." She sighed a little and looked down at her clipboard briefly, "This is another case of moderation, Miss Queen. If you use your voice too much or too loudly too soon, you could permanently lose your voice. Write most, talk a little for a while and gradually increase the use of your vocal cords, okay?" Thea nodded weakly and Oliver squeezed her hand again. It would be okay; he was here now.

Later that day, after Oliver checked them out of the motel, the duo was standing in the lobby of the lovely Omni Charlottesville Hotel waiting to check in. Luckily he'd called ahead and reserved a room while Thea was changing before her doctor's appointment. He looked back at her as he moved further up in the queue, unsurprised to see that she was still clutching at her suitcase. "Next, please," called the desk clerk, drawing his attention away from his nervous sister.

Oliver pulled his wallet from his jacket as he moved up to the counter, pulling out his identification in the process. "Oliver Queen, checking in." He said, sliding his card across the counter to the woman.

The woman smiled brightly as her fingernails tapped on the keys. Her eyes scanned the screen before she looked up at him again. Once more her smile was just a bit too big and bright. "Ah, yes, Mr. Queen," she said in a simpering voice, "I have your reservation right here. Deluxe room, mountain-view, one king sized bed." She slid his identification back to him along with two keycards. "Your room number is 610."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said, flashing the woman his best for-the-camera smile, "but did you say one bed? I reserved a two doubles room."

A few more keys were clicked before the woman looked up again, her eyes flickering down briefly, "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but all of our double bed rooms are booked up for the night."

He looked back at Thea, all shifty-eyed and nervous energy. She deserved her own bed, something with big, soft blankets, and at least one night where she didn't have to nervously watch the door. He'd caught her watching the door with eagle eyes several times over the night…and he'd woken once to the feeling of her stroking his face, but he did his best to hide his awareness. He'd laid there as her fingers ran over his face over and over again until the calming motions lulled him once more to sleep.

She was worried that he wasn't really there; worried that someone would come in and snatch her away to return her to that dreaded room. She'd said nothing, of course, but he knew. He knew because he'd worried about the same things since returning from Lian Yu. Every morning that dawned, Oliver knew there was a risk that his enemies could show up and take everything away. Every time he went to sleep, he worried that the next time he opened his eyes he'd still be on that damned island, still be wishing for his home, his family. He knew her fear because he shared it.

"That's fine," he said, scooping up the keycards and his identification. He headed back to Thea.

"All set," He said, handing her one of the room keys. She gifted him with a small smile, flipping the key over so the side with the name of the hotel on it was visible. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off because he knew what she intended on saying. There was no use in her wasting her voice for thoughts she'd already expressed in writing earlier. "Nope, not having this argument again." He said with a gentle smile. She sighed and then nodded, leading the way to the elevator. He followed after her, his suitcase rolling behind him silently.

Their room was quite nice, certainly nicer than the one they'd just left. The sight of it didn't make an impression on him, but clearly it did upon her. She rushed to the large window, pulling the curtains wide to gaze upon the mountain-view. Oliver took her suitcase from her gently and went to put them beside the bed. To his surprise, she was still standing in front of that large window. He frowned slightly when he noticed the shine of tears upon her cheeks and arms wrapped defensively around her middle.

"Speedy?" He asked quietly as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms about her shoulders and pulling her into a gentle hug.

"It's beautiful," She whispered as she turned in his arms so that she could both see the view and rest her head upon him "It's been years…" Her voice cracked slightly and wavered. He pressed his lips to her hair to stop her from continuing her sentence. He clutched tighter to her in response to the idea she implied. Thea wasn't done explaining her tears, though. "Only seen the view from the attic roof for years."

"You climbed out onto the roof?"

Thea nodded, "Had to. Needed fresh air, sun." That small utterance filled Oliver with pride. His Speedy was smart and brave. "But only on Thursdays for an hour." She added.

Only an hour a week in the fresh air, in the sun…and in such a dangerous place too. _How could anyone treat Thea like that_? Oliver couldn't comprehend it and he had been witness to the darkness of the human soul on Lian Yu…or, at least, he thought that he had. The people in Foxworth Hall were making him question that. "Why?" He asked, though part of him dreaded knowing the answer.

"That's the only day the help has off and the grandparents are out. _Can'_t be seen_._" The way she said it, the urgency behind the words, told Oliver that this was one of those things that she'd been forced to abide over and over.

Oliver closed his eyes and rested his chin atop her head, "No more, Speedy. Whatever you want, okay? Just say the word."

She nodded, leaning just a little into his solid weight as she did so, "Can we just stay like this for a little while?"

"Absolutely."

The two of them stayed standing there until well after the sunset, just watching as the sun's descent altered the view. He'd seen many things over his years, but he had never really taken the time to truly see them. In this moment, with Thea safe and sound in his arms, he saw the beauty in the mountains outside the window. It was only when Oliver's stomach audibly rumbled that the moment was broken. "Hungry?" Thea asked jokingly and, though it was said tentatively, it was a spark of the sister he remembered.

"Yes, actually," he said because, despite his desire to continue their teasing banter, he was acutely aware that just a few hours earlier the doctor had said Thea was underweight. Any attempt at being jovial on his part would just come off callous and mean. "How about we order in some food from room service and watch a movie in bed while we eat it?" It was weak of him to suggest they watch a movie when they really needed to talk, but he feared those coming conversations. He didn't talk about what had happened to him on the island and he knew Thea would want to know. He just wasn't ready.

The small smile on her face wasn't missed by his keen eyes. "Sounds good. Can I get changed first?"

"Of course." Oliver said, while she moved towards the bathroom, suitcase still in hand. _What is in that thing?_ He wondered as he picked up the room service menu. "What do you feel like eating?" He called, hoping she could hear him through the closed door separating them.

"I'm not really hungry."

"You have to eat, Thea." He chided, but not loud enough for her to hear it. He read over the menu, but his stomach chose for him before his eyes registered the word. "I'm thinking about a cheeseburger." He said as the door swung open and Thea walked back in.

"Ooh," she said as she hopped onto the bed. She was now dressed in a too-large men's t-shirt and shorts, or so he was force to assume, as the shirt slid off her shoulders a little putting the bottom hem just a little past her knees. _Was that one of mine?_ "That sounds really good. Can I have one too?"

"Can your stomach handle that?" He asked, remembering what the doctor said about moderation. He didn't want her to get sick because her eyes were bigger than her stomach could handle.

Thea frowned, but didn't automatically argue with him. She considered his question seriously. "I think so," she said cautiously. "Can I try?"

"Just don't push yourself, okay? If you get full, stop."

"Okay." With both their meals chosen, Oliver picked up the room's landline and placed the order for two burgers with fries, and two sodas. Thea pursued the pay-per-view movies that were offered by the hotel while he did so. Her lips moved as she read the summaries to herself. Once he hung up with the food service people, he too began reading the movie options. There were so many possibilities, so many new flicks that they'd missed; it boggled the mind. "This is impossible." Thea whispered, startling him a bit.

"It is," he agreed. It was Thea who decided to just try channel surfing for something. By the time their dinners arrived, the siblings had settled on a FRIENDS marathon. He answered the door mid laugh. "Thanks." He said as he signed the credit card slip and tipped the man politely before taking the cart and pushing it into the room. He closed the door with one hand, "Dinner's served!" He declared, uncovering the platters with a flourish. She scrambled to the end of the bed to snatch one of the sodas off the cart and started sipping at it. He handed her one of the plates and grabbed his own. Both of them set their meals down briefly to get comfortable once more before digging into their burgers. The laughter that bubbled out of them both made eating a bit of a risky task but they both managed to survive.

"I forgot how much I loved this show," Thea said, resting her head upon his shoulder as she sipped at her almost empty soda.

"Me too," Oliver agreed softly, munching idly on a now cold French fry. He hadn't actually forgotten anything. He'd remembered everything; five years was a long time to linger in one's memories. The two of them stayed like that long past the end of the FRIENDS marathon and into a new show, How I Met Your Mother.

Oliver was shocked into awareness once more by the sounds of whimpering. For a few seconds, he was confused. _When did I fall asleep? _The last thing he remembered was laughing and patting Thea's back as she coughed from laughing too hard. The whimpering noise came again and Oliver turned on his side, facing his sister's back. She was hunched in on herself so tightly that she was just a ball on the other side of the bed. He reached out and placed a hand on her back gently. Immediately, she flinched and pulled away in her sleep, making him frown. "Thea," he said, softly and she cried out harder when she heard his voice. She was shaking almost violently under his hand now. _What's she dreaming? _He wondered as he slid closer to her. "Thea, wake up. It's just a dream, Speedy."

"No," she croaked in her sleep, "no, not him. No." She shivered and Oliver couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pinning her arms to her body in case she started to fight or fidget.

"Thea, Speedy, wake up," Oliver said near her ear, "Come on, come back. It's not real. It's just a nightmare, okay?" The shaking stopped and from his new position, he could see her eyelashes flutter open. "There you are."

"Ollie?" The confusion in her voice was obvious, but he was distracted making sure she didn't kick him as she uncurled her body. Oliver released her from the prison of his arms and she turned onto her other side to face him.

"We need to start talking." Oliver said definitively. There was no more putting it off, no more being unprepared. She needed to talk and, in all honesty, he did too. They would be each other's sounding boards. _Who needs therapists?_


	5. So Trusted

**Title: **Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings:** Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
_What is this place? _The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series.  
\- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

As eyes heavy with sleep blinked open slowly, Oliver readjusted to reality. No longer was he spending his nights on a hard makeshift bed of solid earth and brush. He was resting upon a luxurious large bed with accompanying soft pillows instead. He was also pleasantly warm and so comfortable that he was hesitant to move. Then the warmth shifted against his side and for a split second, he panicked. He had never really done well with the whole morning-after charade before the island, but he was even worse at it now if his two companions since were any indication. He really didn't want to deal at the moment. Then the person shifted again and the sight of brunette tresses had him looking again.

_It's only Thea_, he thought with a long breath of relief. That simple piece of information awakened his sleep-fogged brain. The two of them had talked well past dawn about what they'd been through. It had been a difficult process for both, but necessary. Despite the time that they'd spent discussing, and the amount of paper that Thea had used to share her tale, both of them had only managed to get through their arrivals at their respective prisons before sleep swept them away. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He'd certainly shared more detail and emotion with Thea then he'd ever given before, but Oliver had resolved to hold nothing back, despite how uncomfortable the truth made him. His sister deserved absolute honesty.

Oliver carefully and slowly unfurled his body from his sister's, slipping off the borrowed bed quickly. He was pleased to find that Thea slept on peacefully without him. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he grabbed his phone and slid open the doors to their balcony. He closed it behind him swiftly lest the change in temperature awoke the room's remaining occupant. He'd missed several attempts at communication from his team. Concerned that perhaps in his absence they'd gotten involved in something bad, Oliver quickly redialed the Skype call he'd received from Felicity. Worry coursed through him as the ringing drone on and on. _Had Diggle taken up the mantle of the vigilante despite my objections? Had Felicity said something she'd shouldn't have to the wrong person?_ He'd only been the vigilante for a short time before his quest for his family had taken precedence, but he'd still made enemies. _Were Diggle and Felicity found out?_ Finally, after several minutes of the irritating Skype ring the call connected and both Felicity and Diggle appeared on his phone screen. He relaxed a little as both of them seemed perfectly alright.

"Where have you been?" Felicity demanded and then, before he could answer, she continued, "You call John in the early hours of the morning and ask for a doctor without any further information! Then you don't call us to explain what's wrong!"

How can such a small woman be so loud? He cringed slightly at the reprimand, but it was undeserved. Thea had to be his priority here, and she was, updating his team was a very distant second. "I was a little busy, Felicity."

"Did you find your family?" Diggle asked, cutting off whatever it was that the blonde might have said. He nodded and immediately both of them softened. "Are they okay?"

That was a complicated question. Neither his mother nor his sister were as he'd hoped to find them, but they weren't dead either. There was no simple answer he could give. The older man seemed to see his struggle in his face because he changed the inquiry.

"Why did you need to see a doctor, Oliver?"

"My sister was ill." He answered simply in a tone that stopped any further inquisition on the subject. For some reason, it felt wrong to discuss her with them. It was ridiculous to feel that way; Diggle and Felicity were good people and it wasn't as if Thea was his secret and yet… "I was just calling to check in, make sure everything's okay so…is it?"

"Yes, Oliver, everything here is fine."

He chuckled a little at the exasperated tone Diggle took in answering his question, "I'm just checking!" Oliver said, holding up his hands in front of the camera to show his lack of intent. Soon after that the video call was disconnected, leaving Oliver to look out at the morning view alone.

"Who were they?" Oliver jumped at the sudden introduction of Thea's voice. He smiled softly at the sight of her, sleepy and rumpled.

"My friends."

Thea narrowed her eyes playfully, "Impossible. I know all of your friends."

"I could have made new ones!" He countered in defense against the implication.

She sat down in the empty lawn chair beside him as she chuckled, "You? Nah. You've had the same few friends forever. Making new ones isn't in your repertoire."

He laughed at her statements, but didn't argue the point. "Since when did you start drinking coffee?" He asked, eyeing the steaming cup in her hand.

"Since now." Thea raised the cup to her lips and blew lightly to cool it. She flinched as the bitter taste touched her tongue.

"Did you put cream and sugar in first?"

She shook her head and he laughed, stealing it from her and going back into the rented room. He made his own cup of mediocre coffee before adding cream and sugar to both, stirring it in, and going back outside to join her. "There. It should be better now." He said, handing the cup back to her. She took it and sipped cautiously.

"Better," she said, but he still caught her slight flinch.

He leaned forward and took the cup from her hands, sitting it down on a lawn table with his own. "You don't have to drink it, Thea."

"But adults drink coffee."

"Not all adults." That seemed to settle something for her because her green gaze turned from the mugs to him once again. She was just looking at him, no judgment, no anything…just wonder. It was flattering and a little overwhelming to be looked at like that. Instead of shying away from that intensity, he met her eyes with his blue ones. For a few minutes, the two of them sat there, just looking at each other.

"So…" Thea said, finally breaking their eye contact, "I'm gonna go grab a shower." He nodded absently and she left the balcony for the comfort of their hotel room once more. After a few moments, Oliver picked up his own cup again and sipped on it slowly as the world continued to awaken. It was only after he depleted his cup that he followed in her wake. Several seconds after he closed the sliding door, he noted the silence.

Concerned, Oliver made his way over to the bathroom and knocked with two knuckles, "Thea?" He called tentatively as the door swung open a little, "Are you okay?" She was just standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at it unblinkingly. He had to break her trance or she could end up standing there all day. "Thea?" He asked again and she turned away from the bewitching glass abruptly. The back of her calves touched the edge of the tub as she changed positions like a frightened rabbit. She clutched the towel around her with white knuckled hands as she took note of his presence.

She blinked owlishly at him for a moment before she found her voice, "Is that really me?"

"Of course. That's what mirrors do."

She took a breath and turned her head to look at her face once more. "It's been two years since I've been able to see myself." As was apparently her habit when talking about the attic, her voice became almost too quiet and Oliver had to strain to hear the words. "Grandmother smashed the bathroom mirror, and the one in the bedroom, and she had Moira bring down the few that were in the attic. She smashed them too."

There was two heartbeats of silence and then she added, "I look...scary."

"You do not look scary."

"Yes, I do. I look like a zombie, Ollie."

"No," he insisted, reaching out to take her shoulder, but his hand fell uselessly back to his side when she visibly flinched at the idea. "No, you don't look like a zombie. I'm not going to lie and say that you look…normal, because you don't, but you do not look zombie-like." His lips twitched with a small bit of a teasing tone to his words. "It's nothing that time, sunlight, food, and care won't reverse, okay?"

She sighed and once more and met his eyes, "I'll still scare small children."

He laughed a little at the ridiculous turn their conversation had taken. "You will not." Oliver insisted, "Now, can you get in the shower?"

"Yeah," Thea said softly, rocking back and forth a little on her heels, "Yeah, okay, I'll get in the shower, just…" she made a shooing motion with her left hand, while her right gripped the edge of the towel to keep it closed around her.

He held his hands up in mock surrender and left the bathroom. As soon as he was out of the doorframe, the wood clicked behind him. Before he could even blink, he heard the tell-tale shtick of the lock sliding into place. Of course she was to lock the bathroom door, _but why did she do it so fast?_ He turned half a step, to look at the door, as confused hurt lingered in his mind. _Does she really think I'd…barge in on her or something? Do I frighten her so_? He frowned as he made his way over to the little sink by the coffee machine and absentmindedly rinsed out the used cups.

By the time that Thea came out of the bathroom, Oliver had managed to fall back asleep again despite the coffee he'd consumed. It was odd how this bed, and the one at the motel as well, were so easy to sleep in when his bed back in Starling City barely got him a couple of hours at best. It was the slight change in temperature that awoke him as Thea stepped from the bathroom, suitcase in hand. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he did so. She looked even smaller in her ill-fitting clothes then she had in her pajamas as she once more sat her suitcase next to the dresser.

"You can unpack that, you know," he commented idly as he stood and made his way over, pulling out a simple grey t-shirt and jeans from the piece of furniture. "We'll probably be here for a few more days at least and there's more than enough room."

Her wet hair moved about her shoulders ever so slightly when she shook her head in the negative. "No."

He frowned, turning to look at her as he moved towards the adjoining bathroom. Thea had never liked secrets, especially not between the two of them. _What could possibly be in that suitcase?_ His mind raced with the possibilities though he gave voice to none. Instead, he really looked at her. Her blouse hung off her shoulders and the jeans she wore were several inches too short. It was in that second that Oliver decided what they were doing with their day.

"We're going shopping today," He declared, "I'll be ready to go in just a few minutes."

"Shopping?" Her brow was furrowed in confusion and he didn't blame her. He'd made no secret of hating the shopping process in the past. It was a tedious, boring exercise; clothes were just clothes in his mind, but it was clear that Thea needed this.

"You," she said, a note of honest disbelief in her voice as an eyebrow rose to match it, "want to go clothes shopping...with me."

Oliver nodded, beginning to feel unhappy in the face of her skepticism. It wasn't like he was a complete idiot when it came to women's clothing. _I helped many women shed them in my day!_ "I'm not a moron, Thea." He snapped bitterly, but she took no notice of his tone.

Instead, she merely chuckled and took a few steps closer to him. "So, you really think you can help me pick out clothes, huh?"

Again, he nodded, though this time it was weary. It felt like he had wandered into a trap and now awaited the snap that would kill him.

"Uh huh," Thea said, scratchy voice going soft as she considered, "so you'd be able to tell me which hemline length works best for my height? Or whether I could pull off spaghetti straps?"

Now he knew this was a trap. He wasn't even sure what the guidelines were for being able to 'pull of spaghetti straps,' but he was in far too deep now. There was no use in trying to chew off his leg, as it were, when the snap was closing in. Thea smiled in a way that set off alarm bells in his mind as she took another couple of steps; the tips of their big toes touching as she asked, "So you'd be able to help me pick out the right bra then?"

Oliver could swear he heard the snick-click of the trap squashing him. Thea smiled in victory as she started to elaborate, just to watch him squirm, or so he suspected, "'cause I've not been sized since I was thirteen and all of the bras I have are either much too big or too small and I sort of just-"

Oliver grimaced and backed away a few steps, "Okay, okay, I get it." He said, barely resisting the urge to clamp his hands over his ears in childish denial. Thea grinned and giggled a little, proud of her small victory. "This isn't something brothers assist with."

"Not really, no."

"But you can't...I mean, of course you can, but you probably shouldn't do it alone either, right?" Oliver typed 'personal shopper' and 'Virginia' into his smart phone. While he waited for the screen to load, he looked up at his sister. Her hair was wet and appeared vaguely tangled, but he couldn't really tell for sure, given the distance and darkness of her strands. She looked better already then she had when he first found her in the attic. He didn't say so aloud though because he knew she wouldn't yet believe him. The change of light on his screen drew his attention away from her to the device again. "Nordstrom's has personal shoppers for full wardrobes." He said idly as he triggered the website's map, "it's about an hour from here."

"An hour?" Thea echoed, her tone giving nothing away.

"It's not that far."

After that, Oliver went and took a quick shower before donning his chosen clothes. When he came back out, Thea was rooting around in her suitcase yet again. He pretended not to notice her pulling a medium-size book from inside and sliding it half into the back of her jeans, pulling out the tail of her shirt to cover the top half that peeked out from the waistband. He busied himself with putting his wallet and cellphone into the pockets of his jeans while Thea closed the ancient suitcase and clicked the locks into place.

"You ready to go?" He asked as he turned back to face her, "We'll take a cab to rent a car."

"You're gonna drive us?" There was a note of surprise in her voice that had Oliver pushing her shoulder playfully as he passed her.

"I can drive," He said as he shut and locked the door to their room after she stepped out too, "You don't have to sound so surprised, brat." As he turned, he smirked at her and she smiled in response to his teasing. _She has such a nice smile_, he noted idly as they walked down the hall to the elevator. When the doors opened on their floor, Oliver was oddly surprised to find people already in the car. Automatically his gaze shot to Thea, worried that she'd be freaked out inside at the sight of other people, remembering how she'd panicked about her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She didn't seem ruffled though; she simply stepped inside the silver box and turned to face the open door without pause. Oliver followed her lead as always and the elevator descended.

The lobby was nearly empty when they stepped from the elevator, but he attributed that to the early hour of the morning. The siblings stepped out into the orange glow of the morning sun and quickly shielded their eyes. He attempted to hail a cab, but no one stopped until Thea stepped up. Then there were two taxis trying to take their fare. "You girls have it so easy." He joked as he held the door open for her and her smile was soft as she slid inside. He climbed in after her and shut the yellow door behind himself. "Rental car place, please."

The driver nodded behind the partition and soon they were off. It took less than ten minutes and Oliver paid the driver in cash for the short journey. It took him half an hour to fill out the paperwork, but soon the duo was in their borrowed car, driving down the road. Thea leaned her body back against the armrest between the seats with her knees bent. Her gaze was out the window, watching as the buildings and other cars rushed by. His eyes focused alternated between the road, in front of him, and her.

"What are you thinking?" Oliver asked without intent to do so as his attention flickered back over to her again. Thea jumped at the sound of his voice over the quiet drum of the music and he felt guilty for surprising her so. He saw her smile, however so slight, in the glass before she turned towards him.

"People are always in such a rush." She said simply, "Always having to go places and do things…why? Why does no one ever just slow down and enjoy life? Enjoy the small things, you know?" That…wasn't what he thought she'd say. It didn't surprise him that she had such deep thoughts; his Speedy was always wiser than her years. He just had not expected that she'd share her true thoughts with him so readily.

Oliver reached out and took her hand softly, "I know what you mean, Speedy." He was still adjusting to the rushing world and he'd been back among the masses for a while. He remembered how overwhelming it had been in the beginning, how quiet he'd been; he didn't want her to close off like that. "They just get caught up in life, I think. Forget to just exist." He shrugged and squeezed her hand gently.

"We won't forget, will we?" The tone of her question was so quiet, so young. It hit him then. She went into that attic when she was barely thirteen. Thirteen years old and no further education to speak of. She was, in a way, stuck at that age just like she'd been stuck in that attic. She was still a child at heart and she needed her big brother. _Perhaps Thea always has._ His heart hurt thinking about it, thinking that she'd needed him and he had failed her.

"No," he said softly, turning his gaze back to the road ahead of them, "We won't forget." Sooner then he realized, they were pulling into the parking lot outside of Nordstrom. Thea was fidgeting in the passenger's seat as he put the car into park, eyes widening at the number of people milling about. He turned his head to look at her, taking in the nervous jiggle of her knees and the indent in her cheek from where she was chewing on it. "You okay, Thea?"

Her head turned sharply at his question, "Don't you-don't you need an appointment for these things, Ollie?"

"Usually," He agreed, "but money can get you anything if you're willing to pay for it."

"How _do_ you have all this money?" The question had been bound to come eventually, but he hated having to answer it. He hated that because he'd been naïve, because he'd never thought to put together a will, his sister had to live in that attic. If only he'd been more aware of the realities of life, he could have left his trust fund for Thea, to keep her safe. But he had not. It was his fault she'd been in that attic at all.

He let out a long breath, "Because I was over legal age and hadn't prepared for my death, mom couldn't touch my trust fund or stock options so…" He trailed off with a shrug, guilt multiplying in the ensuing seconds. _Why didn't I prepared better?_

"What are you thinking?" Turnabout was fair play, after all.

How was he to tell her that he failed her? That because he hadn't thought ahead, because he hadn't thought like an adult, she'd spent years in that dreadful room. It was all his fault.

"Ollie?" she asked, a note of panic in her voice. His lack of response had frightened her. Her eyes followed his frozen gaze out the window, sweeping their surroundings for whatever danger he must have spotted. "What's wrong?"

"I should have been prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"For the accident," he needed to face her response like the man he was, like the man he should have been back then. "I was no child, but I was naive as one." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If I'd been...if I'd planned properly, you and Mom...my trust fund could have kept you out of that attic."

There were two heartbeats of silence and then, "you're an idiot." Oliver flinched, but nodded in agreement. He was an idiot. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a little, "How were you to know, Ollie? You weren't a kid yes, but you weren't exactly an adult either. You were 22! No one prepares for what might happen at 22; you're still invincible at that age." He raised a skeptical eyebrow; she spoke as if she were a wizened old woman herself.

She huffed, once more seeming her appropriate age, "I was bored, there were a couple psychology textbooks in the attic, so what?" She reached out and cupped her hand gently over his forearm. "My point is it's not your fault, Ollie." She shrugged, "And even if you had planned ahead…that money would have been gone in less than a month. It's much better this way."

"Better?" He echoed inside of a choking laugh. _How is any of this better?_

"Yes," she smiled softly and squeezed his arm, "because your money stayed with you, you were able to come and get me. You needed your money so you could get me out, okay?" _…That is actually a valid point_. He smiled at her, nodding his acceptance of her explanation, and laid his left hand atop hers on his arm.

"You ready to go shopping?" Her face turned away from him to look out the window, eyes sweeping over the cars in the parking lot, the people moving about. Oliver stayed silent and waited for her to make a decision on her own time. Pushing her would only do them harm in the long run.

There was several moments of stifling silence in the rented vehicle and then Thea stepped out. "Let's do this." She declared, tugging her clothes nervously into place. He nodded once and followed her lead, exiting the car. Together the siblings left the parking lot and made their way inside.

At first, everything was fine. Thea walked a single step ahead of Oliver until they reached the center of the store. There were people everywhere, crowding the counters and shuffling about down the paths between racks. He looked over at her, concerned for her in the face of such overwhelming chaos. There was a pallor to her skin that worried him. When she reached out blindly behind her for his hand, he was more than willing to give it. He briefly quickened his step so that he was by her side as they made their way through the chaos, looking for an available store associate to help them out. As a group of obnoxiously loud teenagers moved past, Thea crowded closer to him like an injured sheep in the face of a starving lion.

He released her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, holding her to his side firmly. "You okay?" He whispered the question, but she heard him nonetheless.

She nodded, "Yeah. Just…so many people, so much noise."

"I know." He pressed a small kiss into her hair. He remembered how overwhelming it had been when he first stepped off that boat, back. Everything was so bright and loud. He could protect Thea from people wanting to know her whole story for now, but the rest of it? "Just keep breathing, Speedy."

"Can I help you find anything today?" The woman's voice startled both Queens, having just appeared like magic. Her nametag read Meg. The typical response of 'we're just looking, thanks' was on the tip of his tongue when he remembered that they were, in fact, there for something specific.

"Yes, actually. We're looking for the personal shoppers?"

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" Oliver knew from her tone of voice that she'd taken note of the 'we' in his previous sentence. That's why the charming attitude was suddenly replaced with the efficient, yet professional coldness they were now confronted with. Nowadays, he preferred it when women were not giggling, bubbly disasters at the sight of him. He did not have the time, energy, nor even desire for the complications of a romantic entanglement; he was having a hard enough time maintaining his friendships. However, he was also aware that he'd need to charm this woman in order for Thea to get what she needed. So, with that in mind, he smiled his most winning smile and sure enough, the young woman melted.

"No, but I was hoping one of them could squeeze her in to their busy schedules? I'd be more than happy to pay extra for my lack of forward thinking." His expression shifted to apologetically contrite and the last of the damage done by the careless 'we' was forgotten. The blonde's expression shifted back into the soft look from previously as she smiled up at him.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," She batted her eyelashes and it took every ounce of willpower in him not to flinch, "follow me, please."

Thea rolled her eyes as they were led toward a nearby service desk in the women's clothing department. Oliver ducked his head to hide his smile, watching as Meg rounded the counter and picked up the phone. She paged a coworker named Jenn and then they all stood awkwardly until the older woman came up to them. Her red hair was streaked with natural grey, belaying her age, and braided down her back. She was a rather pretty woman, with wise laugh lines and bright blue eyes; Thea would be safe with her, he could tell. He was a good judge of character, after all. Meg pulled Jenn aside and the two spoke in whispered tones for a few minutes. Oliver kept them in his eye-line, but turned to Thea. Her eyes were flitting nervously around like she couldn't believe any of what was happening was reality.

"Still doing okay, Speedy?" He asked her softly as he finally released her shoulders.

"Mhmm," It was barely a mumble, but it was enough.

Jenn looked over and smiled softly at Thea before she approached them. She held out a hand to Thea first, "Hi, doll. I'm Jenn…and you are?" Her southern twang was heavy, almost bordering on false, but it seemed to reach Thea somehow. She took the proffered hand, which was surprising in and of itself, and shook it quickly.

"Thea." Her voice was weak and quiet, but the personal shopper just smiled ever so slightly brighter.

She turned to Oliver then, once more offering her hand, "And you are?"

"Oliver."

With introductions out of the way, the trio moved towards the fitting rooms. Jenn told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to take a seat. He bristled at that but said nothing; he simply took a seat and prepared for a long wait. Thea looked back at him, her eyes dull and unfocused, as she followed the click-clack of the other woman's high heels. He folded his hands over his lower stomach as seconds ticked by.

It couldn't have been more than a minute before Thea came flying out of the dressing room, her feet barely skidding in time to stop in front of him. "Are you alright?" Oliver asked, concerned that something had gone terribly wrong once she was out of his sight. Had he so misjudged the kindly looking Jenn?

She nodded quickly and reached behind her back, pulling out the book he saw her hide earlier. She pressed the medium-sized tome in his hands urgently, "Start at the beginning." She whispered before running to the waiting personal shopper without any further explanation. He stared blankly after her until she was long vanished from his sight and then his eyes turned down to the clearly-important possession in his hold. It felt monumental to be so trusted; should he read its contents as she wanted? _Do I dare?_


	6. Decisions

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
**Author:** QueencestQueen  
**Pairings:** Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
**Rating:** M (or E, depending on the rating system)  
**Summary:**  
_What is this place?_ The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
\- AU for the entire series.  
\- Inspired by/Fusion with "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
\- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.  
\- Religion is briefly mentioned in this chapter.  
\- Bold-ed words in this chapter are Thea's journal entries.

**Dedicated to:**  
\- Nanashi77 for expressing interest in the future of this story  
\- Logan for letting me talk his ear off about Queencest endlessly.

**Disclaimer:**  
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

For a few moments, Oliver sat in the stiff chair looking down at the velvet-covered book that Thea entrusted to him. It was a big deal that she'd chosen to share what was quite clearly a journal with him. _Start at the beginning_; that was what she had said. _Where else does one start reading a book?_ As if the pages inside would turn to dust if the journal was opened too quickly, Oliver peeled the cover back carefully.

**Dear Ollie,**

**Mom gave me this journal last week 'cause it will make my time in this room easier if I act like this book is a friend to share everything with…at least that's what she said. I was so mad at the time that I just tossed it into a corner in the attic and left it, but then I figured I might as well use it, right? It certainly couldn't hurt me to write things down. Besides this way, I can give this journal to you when you come back and then you'll know everything without me having to say much.**

**So, where to start? I've been in this room for three weeks now. I've been keeping count on these old school desks in the attic. I'm pretty sure no one will notice the marks; the dust was so thick on them that it must have been generations since anyone's used them. Mom used to come up and visit with me every day, usually after I'd eaten my 'dinner,' but it's been a couple of days since she's been here. I hope she's okay.**

**Her mother is so mean! I'm afraid she might have hurt Mom real bad…but then I think, why would Grandmother keep bringing me food without Mom to make her do so, right? So Mom's gotta be fine. She's probably just busy trying to make her Daddy like her again. She says that when he does, I can come out of this room. I don't understand why her Daddy doesn't like her already. Our Daddy loves me….even when I broke that fancy vase in the hallway. What reason could her Daddy have, Ollie? Daddies are supposed to love their children no matter what, aren't they? It's what Daddies do.**

**I miss Daddy. I miss you, Ollie. I miss everything. Every minute of every day I miss you. Wherever you are, Oliver, I hope you know that.**

**Love,**

**Thea**

One letter in and already it was hitting him hard just thinking about the implications of the words she'd written. That his mother had thought a diary would replace actual human interaction was insane. Thea was a young girl back then; she had needed people to talk to, friends, and she'd been denied that. The fact that their mother had left Thea alone for several days for whatever reason, when she was Thea's only real human contact, was irresponsible. _Where did her parenting skills go?_

Then there it was, four sentences in, Thea's casual certainty that he wasn't dead as everyone else believed. Moira had mentioned that very fact during their initial conversation, but it was another thing entirely to see it in Thea's own handwriting. It made his heart beat just a little bit faster.

He looked up from the slightly yellow pages towards the dressing rooms. He wanted so badly to see her coming out of the curtained off area so he could tell her that he'd missed her too, that he'd felt their distance just as much as she had. But she stayed behind that door and he didn't dare to interrupt. Getting a whole new wardrobe was going to take a long time and it certainly wouldn't go any faster if he was constantly interrupting the process every time he finished one of her letters. With that in mind, Oliver turned his blue eyes back down to the book in his hands.

**Dear Ollie,**

** Soon after the Gambit disappeared, I had a dream. I know what you're thinking, so what? People dream all the time, Thea, it's not a big deal. This dream was different though, it felt more real then all my other dreams. I was in some weird all-white version of my room, with a dress to match, and just as I was about to leave, the door opened and Daddy walked in! He was glowing slightly, like he was an angel and I think he was. I wish you could have seen him, Ollie. He looked so at peace. He told me that he is happy where he is. **

**This is the important part that you need to know though… He told me that you're alive out there. That's why I'm writing to you. I told Mom about my dream, but she didn't believe me! She said it was just a dream and to quit bothering her with such nonsense. It isn't nonsense. You are still out there somewhere. I won't stop believing. I won't stop writing to you either. Never.**

**Always hopeful,**

**Your Speedy**

It made him chuckle, seeing her having written his part of the implied conversation into her journal. It was such a youthful thing to do. He was glad to see some of her waning childishness in the pages; hopefully he could help her find her way back to that outlook in the future. The more he read though, the further his happiness dulled. He wasn't sure what it was that he personally believed about the afterlife, but if believing in this dream of their father helped Thea go on, who was he to deny the truth of it?

Besides, there was a sort of peace that even he found from her dream. If he let himself believe…then his father was happy, not suffering. Oliver always felt that it was his fault his father had died, that the wrong man had come home from that island, but now he knew the truth. Oliver was the right man to come home because Thea needed him. She was the reason he'd survived in so many ways. Who knew what would have happened to her if his father had come back instead of him?

If it had been their father to find Foxworth, given the story that Moira had told Oliver, Robert wouldn't have been invited to stay the night, therefore he wouldn't have been there in the morning to see Olivia sneaking into the locked bedroom. As such, the Queen patriarch would have had no reason to investigate further and, even if he'd had one, there would have been no way for him to do so since he wouldn't have been given an invitation to that gathering that had allowed Oliver the chance to explore the room.

With a creeping dread, Oliver realized that Thea very well could have spent her entire life in that room if he'd failed to return from Lian Yu. Horrified by the idea, he quickly turned the page, needing a distraction from the darkness of that possibility.

**Dear Oliver,**

** Lately, and by lately I do mean all the time, I've been thinking about where you are. Clearly you are somewhere far, far away or you would be here, right? You would be here if you could, wouldn't you, Ollie? You aren't out there having fun and just don't want to come home, right?**

**The big question is: where are you then? You aren't here so…where are you?**

** Do you miss us where you are? Do you miss me? I miss you. Lots. Do you even remember us all? I had this horrible thought that you hurt your head and have forgotten us. I hate all these questions, Ollie. I hate that I don't know. **

**But then, when I really stop to think, I'm glad that you're not here. I'm glad you're somewhere else. This place is bad. I don't want you in this bad place, stuck in this room with me. It is better that you're out there because at least you are not in here.**

**Love,**

**Speedy**

He took a deep, shaky breath as he finished this letter. His hands pressed down on the pages as he stared blankly ahead of him. His heart panged painfully as he read Thea's confusion; it hurt to see her doubt her worth to him. He couldn't blame her for worrying that he'd just taken off; If he was in her situation, it would have crossed his mind too.

His eyes watered with unshed tears as his gaze dropped down to read the second paragraph again. Of course, he'd thought about them; he'd thought about all of them on a near constant loop. The pain he'd caused Laurel, the pain that the Lance family had to be going through with Sara's disappearance, and the pain his mother had to be experiencing. These thoughts never left him alone. Then there was Thea. Oh, how he'd thought about Thea. He'd wondered how she was growing up, if she was taking to school or still struggling to find her place among her fellow students. Every day he'd thought about her. In fact, she was the subject of most of his nightly thoughts; his memories of her, uncomplicated and bright, gave him the strength to keep fighting for life, fighting to get back to her.

It didn't surprise him that these worries had troubled her. He'd had the same concerns himself. As that fishing boat carried him further and further from Lian Yu, he started realizing that everyone he missed had moved on without him in their lives. Would he be able to find his place with them again or would he constantly be out of step with the rest of the world? These questions had played upon his mind even after he met back up with his friends. Unfortunately, these uncertainties proved to be true in a way. Tommy, who had at one time been as much a party-boy as Oliver had been, had matured and become a man in love. Laurel had transformed into a more cautious woman with a determination and fire that made her a fantastic lawyer. Even his mother had changed since he'd been missing.

So, yes, Oliver fully understood how Thea could be concerned that he'd changed, forgotten her, but it simply wasn't true. She was the only one he hadn't worried would have outgrown him. He'd always known that, no matter what, Thea was his sister; nothing could change that. As he read her journal, though, Oliver found himself actually wishing that she'd had a true chance to evolve like everyone else had. Instead, she had been locked up in that room and so her personality, and her height and health to a degree, had frozen at thirteen-years-old.

Oliver's hands clutched white-knuckled to the velvet-covered book as he re-read the last paragraph. He wanted so badly to shout at someone, scream until he could undo what had happened to his sister. Even at thirteen, Thea had enough maturity to not wish her situation on another person. Not even to alleviate her loneliness and sorrow. It made him want to howl with rage and take blood from those who had caused her such trauma.

"Are-are you okay, sir?" the tentative question forced Oliver to focus on something else besides the book. It was only then that the billionaire realized his hands were shaking so violently that the book was rustling enough to draw attention to himself. He took a shaky breath, steadying himself back in reality once more, and nodded. The young salesman slowly returned to straightening the shoeboxes on the shelves behind the row of seats in which Oliver sat.

He devoured page after page, entry after entry, letter after letter as time ticked on. Each turn of the paper weighed him down with heavier and heavier dread. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion; he knew how it was going to end and yet there was no stopping anything.

The only times he dared look up from the journal was when he heard movement from the dressing rooms. Most of the time it was simply another patron entering or exiting, but every so often it was Jenn, the woman assisting Thea. The first time she exited the room, Oliver accidentally met her gaze and the woman gave him the coldest glare he'd ever been on the receiving end of. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she approached another employee, handed her some cash and gave whispered instructions. The other woman quickly nodded and disappeared through the racks nearby. _Odd._

**Dear Ollie,**

**Time is endless in this place. I've tried everything to keep track of the days, the weeks, the months, but my make-shift calendar ran out of space a long time ago. How long have I been here now? A month? Two? A year? I don't know. It freaks me out that I don't know. I feel like I'm starting to lose my mind, Ollie, and that truly scares me.**

**My art has helped a little. It keeps my memories fresh. I'm terrified to forget anything. Memories are all we have, they make up who we are; without my memories I'd be nothing. I've drawn the moments I can't risk losing and the important people: Daddy, Mom, you, Tommy, even Laurel and Sara. I've drawn you the most though. I don't want to risk not recognizing you when you come back for us.**

**Grandmother would be furious if she knew that I was drawing on the attic walls, but it's not like I have a lot of blank paper. I'm not about to draw on paper from my journal either; there are only so many pages in this thing and who knows how much longer I'll be locked away. I suppose that's one perk to claustrophobia, huh? Grandmother can't bear to come up the attic stairs so my safe place remains mine to do with as I please.**

**One day I hope you'll get to see my art, Ollie. I really do.**

**Love,**

**Thea**

Oliver knew well the perils and pitfalls of endless time. He'd suffered much the same fate on the island. Days, weeks, months, years. It was all the same. He hadn't even been aware how long it had been since he was lost until a reporter told him. Even now, the number had no real meaning to him. They said five years, but to him, it had felt like so much longer. An eternity. Clearly, it was the same for Thea as it was for him.

The mention of her art brought a smile to his face, making a mental note to stop by an art supply store on the way back to the hotel. He recalled the pieces he'd seen along the walls as he had ventured further and further into the attic. They'd grown in complexity and style as he walked on and he knew an artist of that talent deserved better than to have her art seen only by spiders and mice. Thea's small act of rebellion wasn't a surprise to Oliver. His little sister had always been something of a scamp, defying the rules in little ways. She was always testing the limits, seeing how far she dared to go. It was good to know that her time in that horrendous mansion hadn't dulled her nature too greatly.

He only wished he could force that evil grandmother up those stairs. Make her see the beauty Thea had managed to create, despite her treatment. Make her see the lovely spirit she tried to ruin. Of course there were many, many things he wished to do to avenge his sister, but the time was not yet right. Thea was still too fragile to be left alone for long periods and he knew she couldn't handle going back into that place, not that he'd ever ask her to do so. They'd have to seek justice through a more legal method: the police.

**Dear Oliver,**

**You know what I've been missing lately…other than everyone, that is? Flowers. Silly, isn't it? But it's rapidly becoming spring outside. I know this because when I'm on the roof I can kind of see the changes, but even more so I can smell them. The garden is beyond my view and climbing to the edge of the roof is too risky, but the flowers are blossoming so I can smell them.**

**Sometimes I dream about smelling the flowers up close; they are beautiful, with vivid colors, and so cheerful. Nothing in here is bright or happy. Are there flowers where you are, Ollie? I hope so. I hope they remind you of me. That would be nice; to be remembered by flowers.**

**Missing you &amp; flowers,**

**Thea**

Such a small thing to miss, but Oliver understood it completely. There were many things he'd missed as well when he was cut off from society. Some of them were little things that no one else would ever understand like ice-cream, machine-washed clothes, and mattresses. He fully understood how sometimes the weight, of missing such inconsequential things, could drag someone down to the saddest levels.

He turned the page quickly, frowning as he spotted a fragment of yet another torn page. This was the second piece of paper missing. His index finger ran down the remaining pieces lightly. Thea had written earlier that she wasn't going to use the paper from her journal for anything else, but obviously that had changed at some point. He was curious, though, what it was that had made her change her mind. _Maybe she tried leaving a 'Help me' note for the maid? Maybe she wrote Mom a letter?_ The options were endless.

His attention quickly shifted to the next letter in the book.

**Dear Ollie,**

**I haven't seen Mom in…well, awhile. I don't know, actually? I've lost track of time in here, but I do know that it's been awhile. Do you think something could have happened to her? Grandmother probably wouldn't tell me if it had. She'd just let me rot up here, alone and forgotten.**

**I can't lose mom too.**

**I mean, she hasn't been around much, and when she is, it's definitely not where she wants to be. It's like she is always far away, further than even you. She's still Mom though. That's what is important, right? She's all that I have left anymore.**

**Scared,**

**Thea**

Moira was obviously not dead for he'd seen her, alive and well. _What could have kept her from her daughter?_ Oliver had to assume that something had happened to her. She certainly didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt, what with having locked Thea in that room in the first place and then denying that she was there, but Oliver couldn't help hoping she had a reason that would explain everything away. It was a childish hope, he knew that; there was no explanation that would ever undo the harm Thea had suffered for four years, but Moira was their mother.

Four hours later and Oliver was truly becoming concerned by what he was reading. No longer were the letters conversational nor even hopeful. Within these pages was the chronology of Thea's descent into depression. It made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest to see it written plain as day.

**Dear Ollie,**

**Every day is exactly the same. The only thing that ever changes is my height…oh and the food that Grandmother brings me. Not even her clothes change. Every single day she wears that same grey dress. It's a horrible, hideous thing. I've been tempted to ask her why she wears it, but I never dare to do so. Grandmother isn't exactly the most talkative person I've ever met. I'm imprisoned in the room where time stands still!**

**Thea**

_So, it wasn't just laundry day the night I stayed there_**, **Oliver thought as Thea made mention of that terrible bland, grey dress he'd seen Olivia wear both days. Hell, even the dress that she'd worn to the party had simply been a slightly fancier variation on that same dress. He'd found it odd because the woman was married to a man who clearly had money to burn. Why would his wife be forced to wear such boring dresses? Especially when, one considered that, the daughter, he supposedly didn't care for, wore expensive designer dresses. _Maybe it's a control thing?_

**Dear Ollie,**

**Some days it feels as if I've always been in this room, under Grandmother's rule. On these days, it's actually easier in here. I feel at peace because then it's just the way that my life is. My life before here, before this room, this attic, it was just a dream. The mansion, Dad, even you…everything feels distant and foggy, fleeing with the rise of the sun. The longer I'm here the harder it becomes to remember that my life wasn't always this room.**

**Is it possible that I have been here all along? Is it possible that everything I struggle to remember is just my imagination? Are you even real, Ollie? Were you ever? Or are you just a figment in the mind of a lonely girl? It scares me that I'm not certain anymore. Am I hoping, praying, for someone to come home who doesn't even exist?**

**I think I'm losing my mind.**

**Even if you are just someone my mind created to save my sanity, Ollie, I don't care. I'll gladly live in the fantasy if it means that it'll once again all feel real. Maybe that makes me insane, but I'm pretty sure the past is the only thing keeping me alive anymore.**

**Lost &amp; Confused,**

**Speedy**

Oliver was about half way through the diary fifteen minutes later when the curtain was pulled open. It drew his attention from the most heartbreaking entry so far. He swallowed back the swell of emotions that threatened to choke him as he watched both Thea and Jenn exit the dressing room. Thea was wearing a brand new outfit and Jenn was wheeling out two, connected, silver clothing racks with clothing hanging from every inch of the poles.

Now was not the time to deal with the emotions the entry inspired in him, Oliver realized. He closed the journal and held it tight to his side as he walked over to join the two women.

"Hey you," he greeted Thea with a gentle smile, "get everything you need?"

But it wasn't Thea who answered. It was Jenn, who was thankfully no longer glaring daggers at him. "Actually, Thea's told me of her situation and, if it's alright with you, sir, I'd like to take her over to the makeup counter and start her on the wonderful journey of makeup. We have beauty consultants who can help her find her best look while I bag up her new wardrobe. It'll take about thirty minutes."

"Do you want to, Speedy?" He wasn't about to deny Thea anything, but he didn't want her to think she needed makeup either. "I think you're beautiful without it, of course, but it's entirely up to you."

A grateful little smile tipped her lips up at the compliment, but soon it faded away. One glance at her face told him that Thea wasn't sure; she seemed downright torn. There was a war going on behind her green eyes. Weighing his opinion versus that of the kindly stylist shouldn't be causing her that much turmoil. _What's she thinking?_

"I guess…it couldn't hurt to look into it, right?"

It was spoken like a question, but Jenn didn't hear the uncertainty in Thea's voice. She simply led Thea towards the makeup counter, two sections away. Oliver followed behind them silently; his fingers stayed locked around the journal by his hip. He watched as Thea took a seat and began to discuss makeup things with the young woman behind the counter while Jenn slipped away to bag up Thea's new purchases. Despite the fact he was dying to read more of the journal, Oliver didn't dare to let his attention lapse. He could see that Thea was nervous under the focus of the woman who talked a mile a minute. With each new element applied to her face, Thea's eyes darted to him, seeking his approval. He made sure to give her all the nonverbal encouragement he could.

By the time her face was based out, slightly less pale thanks to the color applied to her skin, Thea was looking a little more comfortable with the woman, but she still looked over at him every few seconds. He smiled softly and shot her a thumbs up after eye-shadow was lightly dusted over her lids. Jenn, who had recently rejoined them, was briefly pulled away from the group as the woman to whom she'd slipped money earlier returned and handed her a single, white, plastic bag.

Half an hour later, the two saleswomen, Oliver and Thea were piling the bags upon the counter while someone else tabulated their purchases. It all fit on his debit card and soon enough the two siblings were headed out to the car. The journal was sitting atop a pile of clothing in one of the Nordstrom bags as they walked.

"What's in the plastic bag?" His curiosity would be denied no longer.

"Oh…um," Thea shifted the weight of the bags she carried before stepping off the curb carefully. He noted that her cheeks were pink and it wasn't because of the blush they'd brushed on. His curiosity peaked. "bathroom items and…girl stuff."

_Girl stuff? What does that-_ "Oh." Now he was the one blushing as they reached the rental car. It was a bit of a trick to get the keys out of his pocket without dropping bags. He popped the trunk and gestured for Thea to unload her arms first. She let out a muffled groan as she dropped the bags inside. They landed haphazardly and she quickly straightened them before she turned to Oliver and began to take the paper bags from him one by one.

"Who knew clothes could be so heavy?" She asked rhetorically as she placed the ninth bag in the very last open space in the trunk. Wordlessly, Oliver opened the rear passenger door and stuffed the final four packages inside. With nothing left to distract them, the siblings stood rather awkwardly by the car. "So, do we go back to the ho-"

"I read some of the letters." His declaration abruptly ended her question and everything around them was silent for a moment. Thea seemed frozen, and for the briefest of seconds, Oliver wondered if time had stopped.

Then, as if it never happened, Thea said, "That's why I gave it to you." Her shoulders rose and fell as if it was no big deal. It was. It really was. "I didn't want you to be bored and I thought it might take forever, which it did, so..."

"Thea," he said, frustrated by her attempt to write off the monumental act that it was. Her expression shifted slightly and he immediately regretted his tone. He put his hands on her shoulders, bones protruding under her skin more then was healthy, and waited until she gave up trying to avoid his eyes, "Thank you for trusting me."

Gently, Oliver tugged her forward into a hug, "Thank you for always believing in me." There was so much more that he wanted to say, thoughts rushing one after another, but he held his tongue.

It took a second, but eventually Thea's arms encircled his waist. She wasn't quite tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder, a side effect of lack of sunlight and fresh air, so she had to turn her head against his chest so as to be heard clearly when she said, "it wasn't always easy."

"I don't doubt it."

He held her just ever so slightly tighter as her written words echoed in his thoughts. She'd suffered a quiet, yet still uniquely painful torture for years while their mother sat willfully ignorant just down the hall. It was a travesty that, despite reading and hearing bits of it, Oliver struggled to comprehend. The mother he could recall loved her family. How could that woman, who used to smile so brightly when their father came home, be the same one who locked Thea in a single room with only a dusty attic as her escape? It was inconceivable.

"Hey, now that you've got clothes that fit you properly, what do you say we grab dinner out? Not in the mall food court, too many people even for me, but I think we should try it."

Immediately, Thea pulled away, eyes downcast, and Oliver worried that he'd screwed up again. Perhaps he'd been foolish, but he'd hoped that new clothes would have eased her worries about her appearance at least slightly. He opened his mouth to take it back, to say they could just get something to take back to the hotel, but then he noticed she wasn't outright objecting to the idea. From the way her eyes moved to the way she was chewing on her lower lip, he knew she was thinking about it. That was a step forward.

"You can do this, Thea." It was spoken as though it was a simple observation, but he knew she needed to hear it. The 'Free People' patterned tunic, which he only knew because he read the tag after he pulled it from the shirt as they were leaving the store, was a mix of red, peach, gold that made Thea's pale skin look like an intentional style choice rather than a horrible consequence. In fact, when paired with the makeover the beauty department gave her, Thea looked like a fragile, porcelain doll. But he wasn't about to mention that aloud. He was trying to build up her confidence, not diminish it.

She looked up again, fingers tugging at the sleeves of the sweater she wore over top of the tunic, and nodded. He smiled, and soon a smile began to form on her face as well. The siblings were quiet on the short drive to the closest restaurant, but the silence didn't concern Oliver. He was rapidly learning that Thea spoke when she had something to say and otherwise he should just let her be. He put the car in park outside of a small, independent restaurant; best to start her off slowly.

When they entered, for a few seconds, both siblings were blinded by the lighting transition from the sunset outside to the dim, intimate lighting of the small main room. It was a cozy cafe with carefully placed throw rugs adorning the floor, seven scattered wrought-iron tables, a couple of pieces of local art adorning the walls, and black grand piano in the corner adjacent to the door. All in all, a very unique little place.

"Go ahead and sit anywhere, sweeties," the bartender half-shouted to them, "I'll bring you menus as soon as I can." The volume of her voice in the relative calm of the restaurant made Thea jump and, in an attempt to disguise that fact, she quickly took a seat at the nearest table. Oliver followed without hesitation.

"So...how was it, having your wardrobe professionally handled?"

A tired huff escaped her lips, "Exhausting. I don't think I've ever tried on that many clothes in my life. There were so many styles and colors. It felt endless." She paused for a moment and something subtle shifted behind her eyes. "Not that it was bad or anything. She was really kind and I know all of those clothes, and the makeup too, must have been a lot of money so, thank you."

He waved off her attempt to backpedal; it wasn't necessary. "Tedious things can't always be avoided."

"Ain't that the truth," praised the bartending waitress as she came up to their table. "My name's Brenda and I'll be your waitress this evening." She handed them each a laminated menu and then added, "I'll go get you some waters while you read, m'kay?"

Oliver read over the menu in silence, narrowing down the number of choices in his head until it was a manageable number. Before he could make a final decision, Thea's menu slapped the table drawing the attention of the other few patrons for a second. "Sorry," Thea mumbled, her voice quiet as could be while she seemed to shrink under the attention.

He barely resisted the urge to sigh aloud; _one step forward and two steps back._ He forced himself not to get discouraged. _She's only been out of that room for a couple of days; four years of harm will take some time to work through._ He couldn't expect any more from her. In fact, he felt guilty for even momentarily feeling discouraged. She was doing exceptionally well, all things considered. He just had to remember to be patient.

The waitress came back, the black tray balanced on her hip. She placed both water glasses on the table before inquiring if they'd like additional drinks. Thea surprised both the waitress and himself by ordering food immediately after choosing just the water.

"What? I'm just really hungry."

Brenda replied, "Don't you worry, sugar. I'll make sure you get your spaghetti with meat sauce as soon as it's ready."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could almost swear he saw a tiny playful smile on Thea's lips. "Thank you."

Following his sister's lead, Oliver too ordered his food and once more the heirs were left alone. His fingers drummed absentmindedly to the beat of the soft song that played throughout the restaurant. There was still so much he wanted to say, worries long ago written that he wanted to put to rest, but now that he had the chance he couldn't seem to put any of them into words. It felt like cowardice not to speak about what he'd read; there was just so much emotion, both in what she'd written and inside himself from learning these things, that no words seemed to capture it all.

"Sorry if Jenn was…weird with you."

The nonsequiter brought Oliver back into the conversation real fast. "What?"

"When she was taking the necessary measurements of me, she seemed to take note of my lack of weight and before I could come up with something to explain it, she was summoned away." Oliver could see the slight indent in her cheek from where she was biting it. "When she finally returned she was whispering to me about things like 'domestic violence' and asking me to 'blink twice if I was there against my will.' I eventually calmed her down enough to explain that you weren't hurting me. I told her that you were my older brother rescuing me from a possessive boyfriend, but by that time she'd already been out of the dressing room. I was worried she might have accused you of something."

That certainly explained the earth-melting glare she'd thrown him. He didn't blame her for jumping to that conclusion. Here was a full grown man with this girl, tiny and frail. It would have worried him if she'd not thought he was dangerous after seeing how malnourished Thea was. He was glad that the saleswoman had enough awareness to see what might have gone unnoticed by others. He shrugged off Thea's unnecessary apology, "it's okay. I'm glad actually."

"Glad?"

He nodded, "She was looking out for you. There's nothing bad about that."

They talked about the various things Thea had discovered about herself while waiting for their meal to arrive. She now stood at five foot four inches tall and petite sized jeans fit her best. As it turned out, the spaghetti strap look didn't work for her just yet. Thankfully, she didn't tell him what size bra she was fitted with, though he suspected she thought about telling him just to watch him squirm. Thea talked about the various products that had been applied to her face too, but she seemed decidedly less enthused about that topic. Perhaps she'd taken his words to heart and decided she was beautiful without the painted lips.

Normally, trivial talk about clothes and makeup would have had him zoning out. Even before he'd been lost to the sea, he'd only pretended to listen to such conversations if there was a high probability of sex at some future point. Now, with Thea, he just relished in the chance to hear her voice. This was the most he'd heard her say at one time since he found her in that attic. He didn't care what she said so long as she kept speaking. It was like music to his ears.

When the waitress returned with their food, Oliver actually wished it would have taken longer to arrive. Yes, they needed to eat, but the woman's presence made Thea go quiet again. They ate in companionable silence; though Oliver did have to remind her to eat slower every once in a while.

"Sorry," Thea replied meekly, using her napkin to wipe the red sauce from her face. "It's just so good to have hot spaghetti again. It was served very rarely in Foxworth and by the time, I ate dinner it was usually stone cold." She frowned, watching as her fork twisted in her noodles. "I put the plate in the sunlight that came through the attic window, but it didn't really make it hot. Not like this anyway."

Oliver's appetite plummeted to nonexistent as he pictured the scene in his head. He kept up the pretense of eating just so she wouldn't feel as though she couldn't freely share her stories with him. "It's alright," he assured her, "I just don't want you to get sick from eating too much too fast."

Once more silence encapsulated their table while Thea ate her meal at a more reasonable pace and Oliver fiddled with his. The information she'd just given him filled his mind along with all the other bits he'd learned over the last few days. It was impossible to think about eating his dinner while he was picturing his little sister having to draw her memories on the walls because she was terrified of forgetting.

"Something wrong with your meatloaf, Ollie?" Thea asked, drawing him out of his negative thoughts. Her plate was almost completely cleared now and he still had half a plate left to eat.

He sighed, "Just cannot stop thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

Oliver hesitated. _Is this the time…or the place?_ Probably not, but he wasn't able to keep his thoughts to himself anymore. He'd waited days for Thea to mention it and apparently she wasn't going to do so. "I think we should go to the police soon, Speedy, so they can take pictures of the physical effects of your…imprisonment on your body."

Under his watchful eyes, color faded from Thea's face and her fork dropped with a small clank to her empty plate. She looked shocked. _Surely, it occurred to her that we would need to go to the cops._ "No." Her voice was firm on the single word.

"What?" Oliver asked, disbelievingly. _She cannot be serious._ "Thea, we can't just-"

She interrupted him with zero hesitation, "Yes, we can. I don't want to press charges."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Her shaking hand pushed her long hair back from her face. "After you and Daddy were lost, the papers focused on you two for a while, of course, but then when those stories dried up, they turned their attention to me. They labelled me 'Little Girl Left Behind,' did you know that?"

It didn't surprise him that the media had squeezed every drop out of the story of the billionaires lost at sea. He found it distasteful that they turned the spotlight to Thea when the other stories had run out. She was just a young girl back then; a child that had lost half her family. _Who the hell thought it was okay to plaster her story and her face all over the tabloids?_ More pressing in his mind though was, _what did this have to do with going to the police about the neglect and abuse she has suffered?_

"I don't want to go through that again, Ollie." She fiddled with the sleeves of the light-weight sweater she wore. "Can you just imagine the feeding frenzy the media would become if 'Little Girl Left Behind' became 'Little Girl Locked Away?' The heiress of a fallen family locked up for years in a dusty attic?" She shook her head vehemently, "I don't want to go through that. I **can't**."

Silence fell over their table then. Thea slouched down in her chair and folded in upon herself. Oliver continued to push the meatloaf around his plate as his thoughts whirred loudly in his mind. Her words hung heavy in the air and he forced himself to think before he opened his mouth. This was a fragile situation and Thea was clearly in a delicate frame of mind. Who knew what would happen if he just blurted out his feelings on the matter without first considering her words? He couldn't risk ill-phrased thoughts pushing Thea away when he'd only just found her again.

If it were solely his decision, they'd be headed to the nearest police station as soon as he paid their bill. What the Foxworths had done, shutting Thea up in that room when she was only a little older than thirteen, feeding her only the barest food, no doubt the scraps of their own meals, denying her sunshine and human interaction was beyond wrong. It was deplorable. It was inhumane. If it were up to him, Olivia, Moira, and even Malcolm, if he even had the slightest inkling that she was up in that room, would be charged and imprisoned for the neglect and abuse of a child.

But it wasn't up to him. It was Thea's decision whether or not to report her mistreatment. He couldn't force her to do anything that she didn't want to; if he even tried that would make him as bad as the very people he wanted jailed. He had to convince her somehow. The only problem was...she was right.

Though he hated to admit it even to himself, Oliver knew better than most that juicy news stories could follow a person for life. When he'd been rescued from Lian Yu, the clip or picture every news outlet chose to use was the one time he got pissed and trashed that paparazzi's camera. They had more than enough clips and pictures of him, yet they all chose that same one from many years before.

He thought about telling her that it wouldn't matter; they'd just travel awhile until the press in Starling City moved on to some other story, but he was aware that was a naïve way of looking at the world. Once Thea reported what happened to the police, it would without a doubt reach the media and news stories didn't fade like they used to. The internet would preserve the story for everyone to see. Future employers, friends, maybe even future boyfriends, would type her name into a search engine and this mistreatment would be the very first result. It would be inescapable. So yes, he understood her not wanting to go to the police. Oliver didn't agree with the decision, but he understood why she didn't want to share this story with anyone else.

"You're right," he said. Thea jumped as though a grenade came through the window when he spoke. He offered her a small smile in an unspoken apology. "Your whole life should not come down to this. This was a thing that was done to you, it shouldn't define you or your future." She nodded in agreement, though there was a slight hesitation to it like she was waiting for the coming counterpoint.

The discussion was briefly interrupted by the reappearance of Brenda. He took the white Styrofoam box from her with a thank you.

"No problem at all, honey. You two want dessert? We have apple pie, homemade donuts, and of course, ice cream."

"I'm full," Oliver said by way of explanation as he inserted the tabs into the designated slots in the Styrofoam to keep his meal secured for the ride back to the hotel. "Thea?"

"No thank you."

"You sure? The newest batch of donuts are freshly made. still warm and everything."

Thea was frozen in her seat and Oliver decided to intercede, "Just the check, please." Brenda held the bill out to Oliver and he immediately handed over his debit card.

Less than ten minutes later, the duo was once again climbing into their rented car. He made a mental note to pick up art supplies for Thea another day. Night was rapidly descending and it was clear, from the way Thea was huddled in the passenger's seat, that exhaustion was weighing upon her. It was a great deal of interaction for her in one day. He would feel guilt, but she had done so well; pride for her personal strength overwhelmed his guilt.

As he gently stopped the car, the red color from the stop light shining in through the front windshield, his attention turned back to the conversation that was left unfinished at the restaurant. "Don't you want justice, Thea? Can you really let what they did to you go…unavenged?"

Oliver couldn't imagine that. He does understand Thea's rationalization for not wanting what happened to her publicized everywhere, but he couldn't believe that she was okay with those who harmed her getting away with it. Just the thought of their maternal grandparents, living out the rest of their days without a care in the world for the pain they'd caused Thea, infuriated Oliver. How could it not bother Thea in the same way?

Her breath fogged the glass of the passenger's window before shifting her weight to look at him. "What other choice do I have?" Her green eyes blinked slowly, her sleepiness becoming even more obvious. "If it's either getting justice or living the rest of my life out from under that place, there's no choice at all." A soft, almost sad, smile graced her face as she added, "I have to trust that God will see their wrongdoings and make sure they are punished."

The light flipped to green and Oliver put the car into drive while he processed Thea's unusual response. God. While the Queens were religious on paper, they weren't the most devoted family; when Oliver was young, they only ever really attended church on religious holidays like Easter and Christmas Eve. By the time that Thea was old enough to remember, they'd fallen out of even that annual habit. Rarely if ever had he heard the youngest Queen talk of God, especially not so ardently. He didn't quite know what to do with that particular assertion so he said nothing as they drove on.

It was when Thea yawned, her jaw cracking slightly as she did so, and rested her head against his shoulder, that Oliver realized that the only options weren't legal system or letting the three individuals escape the consequences. His time on Lian Yu and the task his father passed down to him provided another recourse.

As he put the vehicle into park, outside of the hotel, Oliver took his cellphone out of his pocket. A quick glance down confirmed to his satisfaction that Thea was sleeping peacefully against his right side. He smiled softly, ducking his head a little to feel her hair against his cheek for a moment, before he typed out a succinct text message to Diggle: I need you to send my gear and my bow. He shut off the device and looked down yet again at his sister. She deserved to live her life and she deserved justice. He would get her both, no matter what. It was the least he could do for his Speedy.

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize for how long this chapter took. I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.


End file.
